


Kurosaki's Plaything

by The_Audacity



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-23 07:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30051993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Audacity/pseuds/The_Audacity
Summary: Ishida Uryuu has it all: a great career, fulfilling work, plenty of money, and his father’s hard-won approval. What he doesn’t have is any sort of social life to speak of, including a pitiful lack of romantic prospects. Responding to a personal ad one lonely night might fix that…or it could destroy everything he has worked so hard to build for himself.
Relationships: Ishida Uryuu & Kurosaki Ichigo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my most strongly rated stories so if adult content bothers you, please turn back now. In other words, if you can’t make it through the first section without feeling squeamish, this really isn’t the story for you.
> 
> Warnings: language, alcohol use, homophobia, lots of mature content, kinky m/m sex, bdsm themes
> 
> Theme songs: “A Little Death” by the Neighborhood and “Take Shelter” by Years and Years

The door slams and Uryuu barely has time to take a breath before he is pinned against it. Kurosaki ruthlessly kisses him, tongue sweeping possessively inside without preamble. Uryuu tries to push him away, to get a word of complaint out before it’s too late. But of course it’s already too late. The moment he walks into this apartment, he automatically becomes Kurosaki’s plaything.

His glasses are removed, tie ripped away, shirt tugged off, belt yanked out, pants and underwear shoved down. Uryuu is utterly exposed in seconds. He is embarrassingly half-hard from the attentions of Kurosaki’s mouth alone. A warm palm closes around him and roughly strokes him to full-staff. Right about the time Uryuu starts moaning into the kiss, Kurosaki breaks it. He steps back and looks Uryuu up and down, admiring his handiwork.

“I think we just broke a record, Ishida,” he lecherously smirks. Uryuu averts his gaze on a small frown. “You were thinking about me earlier, weren’t you?”

“I have much better things to do on company time than squander it thinking of someone like you.”

The snarky attitude gets him shoved over the back of the couch with a grip at the base of his neck to keep him there. Kurosaki rubs firmly over his ass before smacking it once, lightly. Twice, harder. Thrice, stinging. Uryuu grits his teeth and takes the mild punishment as he knows he must. It will only be worse if he objects now.

“That was for lying to me,” purrs Kurosaki. “Tell me the truth: were you sitting in that fancy, top-floor office in your daddy’s company fantasizing about me fucking your brains out when you should’ve been dutifully managing all those employees of yours?”

He starts to deny it again but fingers slide south to tickle his balls in subtle warning. His breath hitches with pleasure and foreboding in equal measure.

“…Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I was fantasizing about you in my office!”

The pressure at his neck instantly recedes. Kurosaki pulls him up and hugs Uryuu against his chest, kissing a sloppy line up the side of his throat to nip at his ear. A calloused hand goes back to palming his cock. Biting his lip to hide how close he is, Uryuu shuts his eyes and debates letting himself come like this. He needs release, _desperately_ , after several days anticipating it. Daydreaming about going to this apartment straight from a stressful day at work. Thinking about the things Kurosaki will do to him.

Yet, if he takes his pleasure without asking permission first…

Kurosaki will punish him. Worse than before— _much_ worse—and he may even refuse to see Uryuu again for a while. Kurosaki might strap him down and work a vibrator into him, then sit back and watch while Uryuu squirms and begs to come for minutes on end. Kurosaki could spank him until his cheeks flame and make Uryuu suck him off until his jaw aches and his tongue feels raw. Or Kurosaki might just fuck him once and send him home sore with the instruction not to touch himself for the next week.

And Uryuu would allow every bit of it because that’s how much he needs the sexual sanctuary Kurosaki offers.

It didn’t used to be this way. Months ago, Uryuu was one of those pathetic, twenty-something virgins. Never dated, never kissed, never even admitted out loud that he preferred men. He spent his days diligently studying, then working for his father from the bottom of the company up. Four short years after graduating from a prestigious university, Uryuu became the youngest branch CEO in the company’s history on his own merits. Earning his father’s begrudging respect was one of the proudest moments of his life.

But something was missing. Uryuu kept himself distracted with his career right up until he went home every evening. A terrifying emptiness engulfed him the instant he left that steel and glass building. His apartment was always cold and barren. No personal touch in the sparse decor. No television or sound system. Uryuu didn’t even own a sofa. He sat at his desk, booted up his laptop, and idly browsed the internet until he was too exhausted to remain awake another minute. Latest news, interesting articles, video clips, and the occasional show or movie. Then he would pass out in his twin bed so he could wake up the next morning to do it all over again.

One fateful Friday night, Uryuu felt a little bold.

There was an ad on a shopping website that featured an attractive, scantily clad male model. Thoughts rushed unbidden, filthy and objectifying. Uryuu tried to shut them out but the insistent flare of his routinely neglected libido made it all but impossible. So he clicked open an incognito tab on his browser and tentatively typed a modest search protocol into the blank bar. Ten minutes later, his face was steaming in arousal and mortification as Uryuu indulged in his very first taste of porn. The ‘actor’ being indelicately assailed beneath a burly aggressor moaned as he climaxed messily all over both of them. Uryuu shuddered and gasped as he accidentally followed the example.

He didn’t go anywhere near his home laptop for three weeks after that. Ashamed at what he had done, Uryuu punished himself with cold showers and too much rice wine when the cravings became intolerable. The longer he thought about it, however, the less unforgivable it seemed. Merely watching others take pleasure wasn’t harming anyone. No one had to know he was secretly a disgusting deviant. Perhaps avoiding the issue wasn’t the answer, especially when it seemed unlikely to change anytime soon.

As Uryuu found his way to the desk and pressed the power key on his computer, another thought occurred to him. It didn’t seem fair to enjoy someone else’s hard work for free. All the money and time and painstaking effort that went into making those videos couldn’t be cheap. Nor could he confidently give his credit card information out to one of these websites. No, if he was going to do this it had to be done properly. Or, as proper as anything like this could conceivably be.

Besides, a large part of Uryuu believed it would be better—more normal and less perverted—to have actual human contact with a willing participant than to rely on fake interactions to slake his burgeoning lust, although the prospect of meeting a man in a bar or club for a single night seemed wrong, as well. There was also no way Uryuu could maintain a legitimate relationship, even if he was willing to forego the security of anonymity for regular access to sex.

Truthfully, the notion that made him hesitate more than anything was the fact that he doubted his ability to attract a decent partner solely on his average looks and nonexistent charm.

The only logical avenue remaining was a type of site he never imagined he would ever venture near. Most of the personal ads revolted him. If Uryuu thought his desires were depraved, there was no telling how these demons lived with themselves. He scrolled through ten, fifty, a hundred lines of appalling grammar and unimaginative propositions. The urge to continue began to subside. Seconds from closing the window and erasing his browser cache—along with this whole debacle from his mind—Uryuu paused at the very end of the page.

It was concise, coherent, and _clean_. The ad simply suggested a service for hire. ‘ _Anything you want_.’ It sounded too good to be true but Uryuu could afford a slight risk if he was cautious. There was an email address listed as the only contact information. Pulling his phone from a pocket with shaking hands, Uryuu composed a brief, straightforward message and quickly sent it before he lost his nerve. Four minutes later, he got a response. A list of guidelines and restrictions, as well as a few examples of pricing.

Uryuu agreed to the terms and awaited further instructions. He had no idea how this sort of thing was supposed to go. Didn’t even know what the other man looked like or whether this was legitimate. It could be a group of kids pranking him for all he knew. Or a bunch of criminals intending to rob him blind and beat him half dead in an alley. This had to be the dumbest thing he had ever attempted. Rescinding his interest and blocking the man’s email would be the smarter plan.

The next message was an image accompanied by two words: _Still interested?_

The man was gorgeous. Soft brown eyes, aquiline nose, well-formed mouth, and incredible facial symmetry overall. Excellent muscle definition and beautiful sun-bronzed skin. It was hard to tell with the picture being from the waist up but he seemed taller than average, as well. Most striking of all was the man’s vibrant hair color, which suited him very well, natural or not. He wasn’t grinning cockily or winking cutely. Rather, he sported a direct gaze and smirked ever so slightly. Mischievous and mysterious at the same time. Uryuu immediately wanted him.

He turned off his phone and went to bed.

In the morning, there were no new messages from the midnight entrepreneur. It was clearly up to Uryuu whether they would take a single step further or forget the dubious incident. He argued with himself all day at work, worrying his lower lip until it was rendered red and raw from the blunt scrape of his teeth. This was foolish and reprehensible and he should be ashamed!

_I’m interested_ , Uryuu sent back a half hour after his shift ended at the office. _What happens next?_

Kurosaki was even more stunning in person. He wore a brown leather jacket over a green t-shirt and dark jeans that complemented his coloration very well. The seedy, crowded bar Uryuu had picked for them to meet couldn’t swallow him up with all its shifting, rowdy patrons. Mouth gone dry with trepidation, he surreptitiously went straight to the bartender and slammed back three shots in a row. He watched Kurosaki from afar for ten minutes, eating up the time he was early by. Only then did he wander into view and give a lame wave.

“Hello.”

“Hey,” returned Kurosaki, overtly checking him out.

“So…have you ever been here before?”

Shaking his head with a crooked smile, he stepped in close beside Uryuu to be heard over the chatter and music. Kurosaki smelled not of manufactured cologne, but of a natural blend that was so much more enticing. Leather and soap and something pleasantly musky. It made Uryuu’s heart thud eagerly in his chest.

“Normally, I wouldn’t dream of turning down anyone as hot as you, but I’m actually meeting somebody tonight. Sorry.”

His face blazed from the unexpected compliment. It took a moment for Uryuu to regroup. “N-no, you misunderstand. It’s me, Ishida. I-I’m the person you’re meeting.”

Nervously adjusting his glasses, he took minor offense to the expression of surprise Kurosaki showed him.

“ _You_? But you’re…” Gesturing vaguely to Uryuu’s body, he dragged his eyes back up to finish, “Guys like you don’t need to pay for it, you know what I mean?”

No, he didn’t know what Kurosaki meant and this was starting to feel like a cruel rejection.

“Why would I lie? And how else would I know your name is Kurosaki?”

“Well, shit,” he grunted, eyebrows darting upward. “I guess you are him.”

Growing irritated by the puzzling charade, Uryuu demanded, “Are we still doing this or not?”

“Yeah, absolutely. Drink?”

Kurosaki led him to the bar and ordered both of them something strong. He took out his phone for a quick text while they waited but Uryuu didn’t pry, thinking maybe he had another meeting scheduled for later. They found a quieter area and leaned against a brick wall to gulp at the fiery fluid. An ensuing awkward silence tortured Uryuu, gaze swiveling anywhere but toward his new ‘friend’. The man seemed content to let him suffer in his uncertainty for a while. From the corner of his eye, he caught Kurosaki shooting appraising glances his way.

“What were you expecting?” Uryuu conversationally inquired.

“Some poor _hikikomori_ who looks like he just crawled out of his parents’ basement? I don’t know. Not…someone like you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Are you kidding?” Kurosaki laughed and teased, “You’re getting a discount.”

The mention of money reminded him why they were there. Uryuu hadn’t thought this all the way through. He still didn’t know how they were supposed to make this happen but he was fairly sure it wouldn’t if they stayed at the bar. Straightening from the wall to face Kurosaki, he composed his features into something much more calm and composed than he actually felt. It was time to get down to business before he convinced himself to flee.

“Any suggestions for a location?”

“A hotel is pretty standard,” he replied with a half-shrug. “Although I’m fine with your place if you’re more comfortable there.”

The frightening notion startled him into stating, “Under no circumstances will we be visiting my home.”

“There’s a decent hotel not far from here.”

Considering that for a moment, Uryuu assented with a shallow nod. He set down his empty glass and gestured for Kurosaki to lead the way out. Sufficiently fortified with liquid courage, he saw no point in postponing. The air outside was chilly and Uryuu wore only a light jacket but his burning blood kept him warm enough. Whether it was the alcohol buzzing beneath his flesh or a swelling sense of anticipation, he felt anything but cold as they traveled the dim streets together until their destination came into view ahead.

It wasn’t the nicest hotel he had ever seen, though it had its charm. The charming point being that no one was in the lobby when they walked in; the fewer people around to witness this tryst, the better. Aside from that, the place was basically a modern ruin. Decor consisted of cracks in the tile and smudges on the walls. Uryuu walked up to the concierge, who waited a few beats to glance up from her book and acknowledge him. When she finally did, it was with a bored quirk of her eyebrow. The red rims of her glasses flashed in the golden glow of a small lamp on the counter beside her.

“Can I help you?”

“Ah, yes. I’d like a room, please.”

“For an hour or the night?” she bluntly asked.

Uryuu balked. There was no way they would need an entire night. Right? That didn’t seem realistic. He turned a questioning gaze on Kurosaki, idly loitering behind him. Walking up to lean against the counter, he smiled at the concierge’s excited gasp.

“Well, if it isn’t the man himself! Hey, how ya been, Hot Stuff?”

“Not bad, Chizuru. How’s business?”

“Shady. Just the way I like it.” Chizuru peered at Uryuu and whispered to Kurosaki behind her hand, “Is this…?”

In lieu of a direct reply, he said, “I think we’ll be good with an hour.”

“Yeah,” Uryuu agreed after a glance at Kurosaki. “Yes, that should suffice.”

“Of course! One of our best rooms just opened up.” A key was set on the counter with a _clink_. Throwing in a wink for flare, she told them, “On the house, for one of my favorite customers.”

An odd chortle was Kurosaki’s sole reaction to her generosity.

Choosing not to question it, Uryuu jammed the fist that held the key into his pocket so Kurosaki couldn’t see it shaking. He wondered if he overdid it at the bar when he almost stumbled on the staircase. It didn’t matter, though. They had come too far to call it off now. Plus, his mind had gone rogue with daydreams on the trip there and his raging libido was keen to see this through.

Kurosaki shed his jacket as they shuffled into the moonlit room. He stood beside the bed and slid his hands casually into jeans pockets, watching Uryuu lock the door and place the key on a narrow table beside another dimly glowing lamp. Leaning against the door, he shut his eyes for a few beats and just breathed. The reality was catching up with him and wreaking havoc on his insides. Broken bits of fantasies raced through his consciousness, vying for attention. He knew what he wanted to do but did he dare ask? Could he even say it aloud?

“Since…since I’m not sure,” Uryuu haltingly began, “h-how far I want to, uh…Can we just keep a tab or something?”

“You mean about the price?”

“Frankly, I have no idea how much these sorts of services usually cost.”

Kurosaki snorted. “Are you saying you’re not sure if you brought enough?”

“Well, it’s totally imprudent to hold a large amount of cash, particularly when you know nothing about the reputation of whom you are meeting!”

A long pause followed his defensive outburst. Kurosaki’s eyes narrowed marginally as he considered that. He was looking at Uryuu as if he couldn’t quite figure him out. Then he huffed a quick laugh and relaxed his guarded posture.

“You’re kind of a nerd, aren’t you?” Before he could get too offended, Kurosaki flirtatiously added, “I like that. We don’t have to worry about the money right now.”

“Don’t most escorts usually prefer to be paid up front?”

“Maybe. But I’m not ‘most escorts’ and I say we’ll work it out later. Unless you’re worried I’ll overcharge?”

“Not really.”

His finances weren’t exactly tight, being the CEO of a profitable company with few hobbies and fewer material possessions. Even if he did get swindled, Uryuu could afford to take the hit and learn from his mistakes. Kurosaki approached—practically _prowled_ like a jungle cat—pulling his hands from his pockets to brace them against the door on either side of Uryuu’s shoulders. His stomach flipped from the sudden decrease in proximity. Those fierce brown eyes were dragging up and down his body, lingering on his lips with obvious intention.

“Good. Then, why don’t you tell me, Ishida,” he seductively murmured, “how you’d like to begin.”

His voice failed him. Uryuu was flushed and breathless and aroused without being touched even once. It was embarrassing and strange and _beyond_ difficult for someone who had never even…

“A kiss?”

Kurosaki didn’t hesitate. He tilted his head at the perfect angle and merged their mouths together in a firm but gentle kiss. Holding it there, he gave Uryuu a moment to appreciate the novel sensation without going too fast or leaving too soon. Based on his reluctant behavior, Kurosaki could probably guess he wasn’t very experienced at this. Uryuu sucked in a steadying breath when the man withdrew at length. It sounded loud and tremulous in his ears.

Waiting for Kurosaki to seek confirmation of his pathetic virginity, he was shocked when that topic was kindly overlooked.

“Your lips are so soft and warm.” Jokingly, he asked, “Do you always run this hot, or should I be worried?”

“It’s just the liquor. I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Yeah, I can definitely see that.” Kurosaki lifted light fingertips to graze the edge of his glasses frame. “Can I take these off?”

When Uryuu didn’t dissent, he pulled them away and set them next to the key on the table. He waited on a wary three-count before leaning in for another kiss. Kurosaki was more assertive this time, starting slowly but gaining momentum. Giving him time to process and react to it. A flick of his tongue had Uryuu jerking back in shock, the back of his head bumping lightly into the solid door. Kurosaki coaxed him away from it to linger in the middle of the room instead.

Noticing the sloppily made bed looming nearby, Uryuu said, “I don’t—I’m not ready to—”

“It’s okay, we’re just moving away from pointy furniture and hard walls.”

“I know, it’s just…”

“Relax. I’m not going to attack you. Tell me to stop at any time and I will. I promise.”

He felt silly and childish for his fleeting alarm. This may not have been his ‘element’ but he was far from helpless. Even inebriated, Uryuu was confident he could put up one hell of a fight if it came to that. Yet, there was an evident sincerity in Kurosaki’s tone and expression that assured him it wouldn’t. The fact that he awaited Uryuu’s answer before proceeding was also heartening.

“All right. I want to continue.”

Stepping closer, Kurosaki didn’t kiss him straight away. He carefully carded through Uryuu’s hair in a soothing gesture that had him releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Only then did he touch their lips together once more. The roll of his tongue was less of a surprise this time. Kurosaki took it in increments, gradually introducing him to the unique art of a perfect French kiss. Secretly, Uryuu thought he should be repulsed by something like this, but the way his stomach melted and his chest sparked with pleasure proved he wasn’t.

Kurosaki kissed him breathless, kissed him weak and wobbly and lightheaded until he was sure a blackout was imminent. Kissed him until he missed the stability of the door behind him. Kissed him until the small sounds he stubbornly swallowed down started to slip out. Kissed him until they thoroughly memorized the shapes of each other’s mouths. Still, he didn’t let up. A salacious wave threatened to sweep him over into bliss and Uryuu’s eyes flared open in panic.

He shoved the man back, losing his own balance and tipping haphazardly into a conveniently placed chair behind him. The palm Uryuu held against spit-slick lips did nothing to hide the way he was panting from it. Kurosaki didn’t seem to take it personally. His eyes dropped knowingly to the incriminating front of Uryuu’s slacks. Discomfited to be caught in such a state, he covered up the damning evidence.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Kurosaki insisted, dipping down to brush stray strands from his ashen face. “Isn’t this why we’re here?”

Uryuu knocked his arm away and avoided the man’s compassionate gaze. It was none of Kurosaki’s business whether he was embarrassed or not. They were from irreconcilable worlds to begin with. If his father knew he was here, doing this type of thing with another man, he would have Uryuu exiled from every facet of his life by the next day. This part of him was deplorable, he knew. Nurturing it like this was anathema to everything he had been taught as a child. Maybe it was fine for others to spurn the touch of a woman, but not when he was his father’s sole heir. There were certain expectations that must be met.

“This was a mistake,” he agonizingly whispered, pressing the heels of his hands into stinging eyes. “I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be doing this with you.”

“Ah. That explains it.”

The flat, jaded cadence had him dropping his arms to stare at Kurosaki in confusion. “What?”

“I’ve met guys like you before. The reason why you don’t realize how attractive you are, why you’re so new to this, and why you keep resisting your own urges is because you haven’t accepted yourself yet. Not really. I bet you don’t even consider yourself to be gay.”

An indignant scowl pinched Uryuu’s features, outrage flooding into him as a mental levee burst.

“What gives you the right to judge and label me? You know nothing about my life or how I choose to live it, so I will thank you to keep your misguided opinions to yourself!”

“It’s not judgment,” Kurosaki calmly countered, “it’s fact. Can you honestly say this is just an experiment or a phase after what almost happened? I mean, I’m an awesome kisser but I can’t magically turn straight men gay.”

“Can you honestly say there’s no such thing as people who prefer both sexes?”

Rolling his eyes, Kurosaki yanked his phone from his pocket and unlocked it with an aggravated flick of his thumb. He swiped across the screen for a few seconds before holding it out towards Uryuu. Displayed across it was an image of a curvaceous young lady in nothing but lacy panties sprawled suggestively on a messy bed. Her long red hair didn’t quite cover the buxom swell of her naked breasts. His knee-jerk reaction was a dismayed gasp accompanied by a hasty glance in any other direction.

Kurosaki laughed. “That’s not the reaction Orihime normally gets from bisexual dudes.”

“I-I was only reacting out of propriety for her sake,” Uryuu adamantly fibbed. “Why do you even have a picture like that on your phone?”

“Because I _am_ bisexual. She’s an ex-girlfriend of mine, although she doesn’t know I kept these…”

“Then you shouldn’t be showing them off to strangers!”

“If it’s in the interest of helping a miserable pretty-boy struggling with one hell of a closet-case, I’m one hundred percent sure she won’t mind.”

“I’m not—”

The unmistakable click of a photo being taken cut Uryuu’s denial short. A flurry of texting taps could be heard as Kurosaki muttered, “If it bothers you that much, I’ll ask her right now.”

“No, Kurosaki, don’t!”

“Sent.”

A stunned hush resounded as Uryuu gaped at him. The idiot just sent a candid photo of him to a girl he had never met. Whatever hope he had of remaining as close to anonymous as possible was dashed. Kurosaki had his name, his email, his photo, and possibly more. They might as well have gone to Uryuu’s apartment and saved him the trip to this ghastly hotel room, for all it mattered after that stunt.

“Why on Earth would you do something like that!?”

The trill of a cutesy message alert superseded Kurosaki’s response. His smile gleamed in the glow of his phone before he shared the joke with Uryuu.

“ _Oh my gosh, he is so adorable! I don’t mind him seeing my pics at all. You better be extra sweet to him, Ichigo!_ ”

Despite his humiliation, Uryuu responded with, “‘Ichigo’, like the fruit? That’s your given name?”

“No, not like the fruit,” he grumbled. “Here, read the kanji.”

‘One protector,’ huh? That was an interesting choice. It made Uryuu wonder what sort of people his parents were. What his upbringing was like. Where he grew up and the friends he’d shared his childhood with. Kurosaki seemed like an unusual person based on what little he had observed of the man so far. A lengthy discussion would probably prove invigorating.

There was Uryuu’s inquisitive side rearing its inappropriate head.

“Listen, Strawberry, I’m not going to debate my sexuality with you. I’ll compensate you for your time but then it’s best if we part ways.”

“I disagree, Pretty-Boy.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Then stop _being_ that. Oh, wait, you can’t.” Adopting a smug grin, Kurosaki put his phone away and sat on the corner of the bed across from him. “If you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t touch you. I’m not gonna charge you for just a kiss, either.”

“That isn’t a very solid business model.”

“However,” he pointedly continued, surprising Uryuu by abruptly stripping off his shirt, “I’m not letting you leave unless you do something for me first.”

His tone was testy as he asked, “And what would that be?”

“Watch me.”

Kurosaki popped the button of his jeans and eased the zipper down. He retrieved a small bottle of clear gel from a back pocket and cracked open the cap to squeeze a generous dollop into his palm. Uryuu’s eyes widened in comprehension.

“Wait a second, Kurosaki.”

“Tell me to my face that you don’t want to see it, Ishida.” He took a breath to declare precisely that…but he couldn’t. Not sincerely. “That’s what I thought.”

Fabric was pushed aside and Kurosaki’s erection appeared in his hand. A controlled exhale marked the first slow stroke. He stared directly at Uryuu as a measured pace was established. The heat of those brown eyes on his effortlessly rekindled waning interest. His breathing began to increase even faster than Kurosaki’s. That familiar spill of pleasure came rushing in from the unbelievably erotic vision he created. It was so much better than those cheesy videos.

“I can’t do this,” he hissed almost pleadingly. “I can’t.”

“You can, Ishida. This is only the first of many things we’ll do together. Know why?” Kurosaki spread his legs a little wider, canted his hips a little higher, and moved his hand a little quicker. “Because you’re going to go home and think about this whether you want to or not.”

He propped his free hand behind him and arched his back. His head tipped back as his eyes slid shut. The muscles of his forearm flexed on a clever twist around his length. A faint groan followed a hitched inhale. Uryuu’s knees met, subconsciously reacting to the discomfort of subverted excitement. Hands gripped tightly to the armrests when Kurosaki licked his lips and gave a short thrust of his hips.

“No,” Uryuu belatedly denied in spite of the sharp gaze snapping back to his. “I refuse.”

“ _Yes_. Mmm, you’re gonna imagine me like this and it’ll make you so turned on you can’t stand it anymore. You’ll touch yourself wishing it was my hand pumping your dick instead.”

“Y-you’re wrong!”

The intermittent snap of his hips transitioned to smoothly rhythmic, becoming more pronounced as his pleasure mounted. Fingers squeezed and abs rolled. Wet noises accentuated the heavy hush between their dialogue. It was clear Kurosaki enjoyed being watched. He positively reveled under the weight of Uryuu’s reluctant focus. Stealing that satisfaction was impossible; he couldn’t look away for his very soul. Not when the man was sipping urgent puffs of air and loosing the most maddening moans, winding himself up while eye-fucking Uryuu for all he was worth.

“Eventually the fantasy won’t be enough.” The husky rumble of his voice threatened to incite Uryuu’s demise. “You’ll wonder what it would feel like to have my hands, my mouth all over your body. Might take a while, but you will contact me again.”

“I’ll delete your address.”

A wicked grin enhanced his handsome features. “You already memorized it.”

Uryuu cursed. Nails bit into thin cushion lining the armrests. It was taking every drop of restraint to keep himself in check. One slip in concentration and Kurosaki would win. Because this was undoubtedly an elaborate game. Ordinarily, Uryuu was exceptionally skilled at all manner of games, including those occurring only within the mind. But this was one he had never played before.

“Don’t underestimate my self-restraint.”

“What restraint? Look at you, all flustered and horny just from this? You want it so bad, I can practically feel your cock twitching in those expensive slacks. Go easy on yourself for once and admit it. I’ll take you so high you’ll get lost in the stars.”

He wanted to mock Kurosaki and proclaim his words ludicrous. He wanted to stand up and walk out before he could finish. He wanted to go home confident that everything this man had said would not come to pass. He wanted to travel back in time and kick himself for ever thinking this was a good idea.

The pitch of Kurosaki’s sounds changed and the meter of his motions faltered. Uryuu’s spine stiffened, shiver after shiver trembling along it to witness his luscious mouth parting on a silent cry. Kurosaki shut his eyes, clenched the fist gathered in the covers behind him, and came with a stilted sigh of Uryuu’s name. Helplessly enthralled, he drank in every second of it until he felt the telltale trigger of an explosion. He doubled over, gasping as a sudden shock of ecstasy was ripped from him against his will. A single, plaintive whine escaped unhindered.

He swore as the sweet, tingling paralysis started to fade.

Daring to raise his head at length, Uryuu shot a vitriolic glare at the celebrating moron. He was obviously very proud of himself for winning an orgasm from the tenacious prude who had dared to reject him. Kurosaki wore an indolent, self-satisfied smile as he deftly tucked himself away. He grabbed a box of tissues from the bedside table and put a few of them to use before refocusing on Uryuu.

“You’re welcome. Call me when you need me to relieve some of that stress you’re hoarding.”

He instantly snarled, “Not if it’s the last thing I ever do!”

His legs were shaky but Uryuu forced them to support him so he could march toward the door and put this entire night in the past. Snatching up his glasses, he threw open the door but inevitably paused at the sound of Kurosaki’s voice.

“You’ll call me, Ishida, but I won’t fuck you right away. You’ll have to earn it first.”

Twin shards of lust and fury stabbed brutally into Uryuu’s gut. He wavered in the open frame, quivering with barely contained violence. His fingernails dug into the wood as he deliberated on letting it loose.

The door slammed shut with Kurosaki on the other side.


	2. Chapter 2

“The meeting was rescheduled due to technical difficulties—on their end, not ours—and the upcoming acquisition was put on hold until their new president can go over the contracts. I already forwarded your messages and drafted an outline of the press release they’ll be expecting you to make tomorrow morning. I’ll leave the details to you, since you’re much better with words than me.”

“Thank you, Asano-san. Everything seems to be in order. You may leave for the day.”

His first and only secretary, who Uryuu was reasonably sure secretly loathed him for whatever reason, nodded and walked out of the office. It had been a very long day and he envied his employees’ significantly fewer responsibilities. Hours of grueling work and Uryuu still had a mountain of issues to address. He snatched off his glasses and rubbed at the persistent headache that even two white tablets couldn’t kill. It was going to be another long night.

Not that he really resented his duties; they kept his mind occupied when it would otherwise be sullied by less savory topics.

It had been over two weeks since his encounter with Kurosaki Ichigo. Although, it may as well have been yesterday for all the peace of mind he had managed since. Everything he predicted had happened. Uryuu had gone home that night and dreamed of him. He had woken up achingly aroused and too stubborn to do anything about it for _days_. It exasperated him to no end how readily his subconscious had dug in to the idea of Kurosaki as his primary sex symbol and refused to relinquish it.

Languishing in a perpetual cycle of need and denial, Uryuu hadn’t lasted more than a week. He had growled as he jerked off to thoughts of Kurosaki’s hand pumping his dick instead. He had cursed the man’s name while wondering what Kurosaki’s mouth on his body might feel like. He had hissed to acknowledge a covert wish that Kurosaki would fuck him.

Uryuu slid his glasses back on and decisively tucked those musings into a deep corner of his brain. The stack of folders on his desk wasn’t going to assess itself. He got through another half hour with scarcely a dent in the pile. No matter how he attempted to discipline his own desires, he could never truly get Kurosaki out of his head. Uryuu found himself dragging his pen across his lower lip while envisioning it as someone else’s finger.

Would Kurosaki be a good lover? He certainly had no lack of confidence. His inspired endeavors at dirty talk had defeated Uryuu’s most fortified defenses without trouble. There was nothing remotely displeasing about his physique. The way he had masterfully kissed Uryuu to within an inch of orgasm spoke volumes for his lingual ability. The pen dipped in to bump against the tip of his moistened tongue and a light sigh slipped free. Kurosaki’s hands had been gentle then but there was no doubt they could be rough when necessary. Maybe gripping tightly to Uryuu’s hips, holding him still for one forceful thrust after another.

A cursory knock on the open door had him dropping the pen and nearly falling out of his chair in fright.

“Oh, sorry, Ishida-san. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Asano-san?” he squawked, rolling his chair closer to the desk to hide an all too familiar hindrance. “I thought you went home!”

“Uh, I had a few things to finish up. Am I interrupting anything, or…?”

“Of course not. I was merely sorting these documents.”

“Right. Yeah, of course.” Laughing nervously, he crept further into the office with tentative body language. “I know this isn’t my place, and feel free to yell at me, but…Can I ask what’s been bothering you lately?”

“What makes you think anything should be?”

“Well, I wouldn’t presume to comment on your productivity but there has been some concern from our sister companies regarding recent projects. Plus, it’s clear to everyone here that you haven’t been in the best of spirits. Is there anything we can do?”

Had his brooding over Kurosaki unknowingly extended to his job? He could understand a distracted slip-up here or there, but if his subordinates were talking about it…

“No. I appreciate your concern, Asano-san, but the problem that plagues me is something I alone can alleviate.”

“I see. In that case, I guess I really will be hitting the road. Let me know if you ever need anything, as usual.”

Flashing a wry smile, Asano waved and bid him goodnight. Uryuu’s forehead wearily met the desktop. Groaning at the sad turn his life had recently taken, he felt the sour seeping of regret tinge his mood once again. This was never going to end just by ignoring it. Kurosaki wasn’t going to simply vanish from his every other thought overnight. Either Uryuu had to get his loony ass to therapy or…He took out his phone and glared at its dark surface as though it was the root of his despair. The hardest email he had ever composed soon glared back at him.

_Text me an address, a time, and leave out the gloating, you insufferable bastard_.

Less than a minute later, a plain address obligingly devoid of gloating was sent back. The word ‘ _now’_ punctuated the reply.

Since he had been anticipating another hourly hotel, Uryuu balked to realize the address he had received led to an apartment. Occupied, by the looks of it. He hesitated in front of the door and questioned the merits of this hasty plan. Although he didn’t get immoral vibes from Kurosaki, strolling right into the lion’s den was never a good idea. It made so much more sense to turn around and go home. Yes, that was the best course of action. Preferable in every way to knocking on that door.

So, why wasn’t he descending the stairs?

The portal promptly creaked open to reveal an irritated Kurosaki. “Thought I heard footsteps. Were you going to knock anytime soon or is there something fascinating about my door?”

“I was just…”

“You were having second thoughts, right? Figured you would. Well, which is it, Ishida? In or out?”

He glanced at the stairwell, then past Kurosaki into what he could see of his flat. Then back to the stairwell. Finally, Uryuu met his eyes and gave a shallow nod. Kurosaki stepped back to let him in and locked the door as his guest stepped out of his shoes. Appraising the unusually spacious layout, his initial observation was one of awe. The man’s messy personality translated to his decorations in an oddly captivating way. His furniture was modern and occasionally brightly colored. There were abstract paintings at respectable intervals lining the walls. Nothing seemed uncomfortably cluttered, but neither was it stiflingly neat. Compared to the utilitarian style of his own place, Kurosaki’s apartment had a warmth to it, an invigorating energy that Uryuu’s home direly lacked.

His eyebrows darted north when he spotted an easel in the corner bearing a half-finished work. Judging by the theme and technique, it bore the same artist as several of the works mounted around the room. He turned to Kurosaki with skepticism carved across his features.

“You’re an artist!?”

“Paintings mostly, yeah. Why do you sound so shocked?”

Ignoring the question, he replied with another, “Have you sold any of them?”

“Some. One of my best friends, Rukia, owns a gallery. She keeps nagging me to let her show more but I only give her the good ones.”

“Kurosaki, all of these are good,” he stated, inspecting one after another as he moved further into the living room. “Great, even. I minored in art appreciation and these brush strokes are _masterful_. Your attention to detail here contrasts magnificently with the vague play of color on this side. And this piece flows almost like a strain of music. That one over there is reminiscent of Cezanne—”

“Okay, who are you and what did you do with the real Ishida?”

He was blushing. Actually _blushing_ because Uryuu had praised his abilities. A giddy squirming in his belly at the sight made him frown.

“I could ask the same of you. Nothing about your behavior that night gave the impression that there might be a sensitive soul hidden beneath layers of aggressive jackass.”

Regretting it as soon as he said it, he already knew it wasn’t true. Kurosaki had started out compassionate and friendly with him at the bar and when they first reached the hotel. It was only after Uryuu repeatedly heaped spiteful comments on him that he showed a vindictive side. But thinking about that was doing unpleasant things to his chest, as was the hint of hurt on his face. Kurosaki rallied with a ready comeback that actually managed to sting.

“At least I’m not the type to stuff people into narrow categories as soon as I meet them.”

“No, you’re the type who stuffs _them_ with your ‘categories’. I imagine it’s much easier after you bring them to see your art. Is this the part where you ask me to sit for a nude portrait?”

“Hey, you replied to the ad, not the other way around.”

“That’s right. You offer a service and I’m willing to pay. Why don’t we just stick with that?”

“Fine by me.”

“Good.”

With their spat finished, Uryuu was at a loss for how to move forward. The better part of a month spent fantasizing about this moment and now that he was there it threatened to fall apart. He didn’t want Kurosaki for his personality or his creativity. Uryuu wanted him for his _body_ and that was right in front of him, ripe for the taking.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“No.”

“Are you hungry?”

He was, as it happened, but that could be overridden in lieu of sating more important cravings. Shaking his head, Uryuu went to sit on the couch and waited for the other to join him. His jacket was discarded, glasses removed and placed with a quiet _clink_ onto the glass coffee table. Kurosaki caught his drift and wasted no time initiating a kiss. It wasn’t as mild as their first and it quickly worked up to being hotter than their last. Uryuu was already getting the hang of this after a bit of practice.

“Take off your shirt,” he briefly broke away to command.

Kurosaki did, but not without shooting him a quizzical look. He went for the clasps of Uryuu’s shirt. Brushing his hands away, he pushed Kurosaki back to lean against the armrest. Uryuu braced above him and reconnected their kiss. There would be no more reluctance, no slow-and-steady seduction this time. What he needed from Kurosaki was to quell his desire for the man as soon as possible. Reveal the enigma and end his intolerable curiosity. Then he could go back to whatever lies he chose to tell himself and concentrate on his work.

His fingers were captured as soon as they touched Kurosaki’s belt.

“What’s the rush? You have somewhere to be?”

“Anywhere but here, if at all possible.”

“If you don’t want to be here—”

“I don’t _want_ to be here, Kurosaki, but my subconscious seems to think I _need_ to be. So, here I am whether I like it or not. Exactly as you said. Does it make you happy to hear that your nefarious scheme worked and I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you since we met?”

Widened eyes regarded Uryuu for a moment before he said, “A little, yeah.”

“Shut up and take off your pants.”

Again, he reached for the belt buckle but he was still deterred. Exercising some of that impressive strength his body boasted, Kurosaki shoved him to the cushions between one instant and the next. Wrists restrained and legs pinned, Uryuu struggled against the hold with a stream of irate protests. Kurosaki just gazed coolly down at him and waited for the tantrum to subside.

“You’re used to giving the orders, aren’t you? I’ve known people in high places with the same sharp tone.”

“So what if I am? You’re used to taking orders, right? Part of the job description, I’m sure.”

“Mm, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t play submissive, Ishida.” Watching him with a dangerous quirk to his lips, Kurosaki dipped down to murmur against his ear, “Besides, the last thing you need is more power. I’ll show you how incredible it can feel to let someone else have all the control.”

“And if I refuse?”

Teeth sunk shallowly into the pliant lobe of Uryuu’s ear. It sparked a shudder he couldn’t dispel. He turned his head aside but Kurosaki gave chase, laving the reddening flesh to generate an astonishingly erotic sensation that squeezed a strangled sound out of him.

“You won’t refuse,” he brazenly asserted. “You’ll be too busy moaning my name to say ‘no’.”

Inhaling to spitefully decline, his breath was stolen by a heavy palm pressing against his groin. Kurosaki was playing dirty and proud of it. The slow, cyclical drag of his hand between Uryuu’s legs was more than enough to keep him silent on bated breath and bitten lip. Damn his traitorous anatomy for being so sensitive! Especially when Kurosaki dove in for a messy meeting of mouths. Uryuu wanted to tug at that unruly orange fringe but his wrists were still trapped in an unyielding grip.

Kurosaki navigated north, pushing up his shirt to smooth over his navel and on to his chest. A light pinch of his nipple elicited a clipped gasp. Uryuu wasn’t sure he liked it. Apparently, the wordless sentiment translated because Kurosaki didn’t do it twice. He rubbed soothingly over both of them instead. That went over much better and Uryuu wriggled under the caress. The ruthless onslaught of Kurosaki’s wily tongue was clouding his mind quite effectively without finding other ways to arouse him, too. In a matter of minutes, Uryuu couldn’t bear it anymore.

“Enough,” he evaded the kiss to pant, “You’ve made your point. That’s enough.”

“If you still think you get any say in the pace I set, it’s not nearly enough.”

Kurosaki let him up anyway, releasing his arms and sitting back on his heels. Uryuu automatically straightened his shirt and scooted back to sit upright against the opposite armrest. Still dubious of this dominant/submissive business the man vaguely referenced, he wasn’t partial to the vulnerability it appeared to require. As someone who was always poised and who maintained reasonable control over a given situation, faith in another’s motives was an entirely novel concept to him. It made him uncomfortable just considering it.

“I didn’t come here to be held down and teased at your every whim.”

“That’s not really how it works. That’s only a small part of it.”

“Enlighten me.”

Kurosaki reached for him. Uryuu tensed but stood his ground, relieved when he was only aiming for the blue-striped tie he wore. Sliding it from around his neck, Kurosaki held it up as he replied.

“You have to let me bind your hands behind your back.”

“Are you _crazy_? I’m not doing that!”

“I know you don’t fully trust me yet. That’s the whole problem, isn’t it? You’re worried I’ll do something unpleasant, potentially even painful.” Kurosaki showed him the same solemn expression that convinced him of the man’s benign intentions at the hotel. “But I won’t, Ishida. I give you my word, I will never do anything that you won’t enjoy. Like I said before, tell me to stop and I will. Let me show you I’m trustworthy?”

It was a good speech but Uryuu wasn’t sure. The reality was Kurosaki had never given him any indication to doubt his honor. He had yet to legitimately force Uryuu into anything—excluding the dozens of fantasies his own mind had inflicted—and all signs pointed to very nice things if he would only consent. Perhaps he would even appreciate it. Gods knew he wasn’t as in-tune with his sexuality as most people his age. Kurosaki had probably interacted with enough men like him to recognize the signs.

On the other hand, Uryuu wasn’t much of a risk-taker these days.

“No, this is absurd. I’ll have no part in it.”

Rising to leave the apartment, he froze at a muttered phrase from Kurosaki, “Never figured you for a coward.”

He whipped his head around and valiantly ignored the urge to deck him. That word always raised Uryuu’s hackles like nothing else. Based on the expression Kurosaki showed him, he knew it, too.

“Do you really want to subjugate me that badly?” Uryuu harshly cajoled. “Pervert!”

Kurosaki shrugged, gracefully skirting the verbal bait meant to hook him. Uryuu snatched his tie from a lax grasp and pictured himself throttling the man with it. By now, that sounded equally as gratifying as fucking him might have been. Not that he would ever find out, since Kurosaki’s conditions for such an event were unacceptable. The mysteries Uryuu had pondered while tossing and turning in his bed would never be solved. All because he needed to maintain the illusion of control in their exchanges.

But that was just it: an illusion. Like the illusion that Uryuu wasn’t ultimately bound to give in to even this. Why expend even more time and energy fighting the inevitable? He was so tired of fighting everything about himself he couldn’t approve of. Maybe it was finally time to give in.

Wilting onto the sofa, Uryuu tossed the tie back without glancing at him. His face burned in a mixture of determination and embarrassment. At least Kurosaki didn’t laugh or crack a joke.

“Turn around,” he quietly instructed after a pregnant pause, “Wrists crossed behind your back.”

Uryuu adjusted himself into the specified position and twitched at the first touch on his skin. Kurosaki cinched the silk securely so that he couldn’t slip free, but not tight enough to restrict circulation. It was such a fine line that Uryuu wondered how many times he had done this sort of thing in the past. He couldn’t decide whether or not that was reassuring. When it was done, Kurosaki placed a palm to the center of his spine and rubbed relaxingly along it. Uryuu shifted away from him and mustered a scathing remark.

“You don’t have to _pet_ me like some kind of anxious animal.”

Neither of them mentioned the fact that he was faintly trembling.

“Does that mean you won’t mind if I’m a little rough with you?”

There was a darkness to his inflection that had Uryuu stiffening the instant before he was slammed against the cushions for a second time. His hair went in every direction and he barely had time to gasp in a breath before Kurosaki’s mouth was following its example. The clasps of his shirt shrieked as they were ripped apart. Hot, slick pressure reveled in the bared expanse of his chest, particularly the dusky points on either side. One of Kurosaki’s hands unlatched his slacks and burrowed inside.

The pleasure was intense and Uryuu instinctively struggled to free his arms. His eyes were fixed shut against it but his lips became that much looser. Noises he didn’t think himself capable of making came tumbling out one after another. There was no way he could last under the rush of so much stimuli. He sucked in a short breath and heard it punch out as a hoarse cry when a powerful climax took him by surprise. Kurosaki murmured heated praise into the hollow of his throat.

“You make the most beautiful sounds for me.” Grinning in response to Uryuu’s stunned expression, he commented, “Yeah, the first one’s always a shock.”

It took him a second to offer a winded response. “F-first?”

“Oh, did you think we were done? Not by a long shot. My policy is a strict three-orgasm minimum.”

“ _What_?”

Kurosaki couldn’t seriously be suggesting…Uryuu was already woozy and weak from just one! The man was seriously too competent at this.

“The next one will be even better,” Kurosaki persuaded, scooting lower to nuzzle around Uryuu’s belly button. “It’ll last longer and hit you harder. Working up to it is half the fun, though.”

Sarcastic sense restored, Uryuu quipped, “I ordered takeout, not a fucking three-course meal.”

That made Kurosaki laugh. Then he said, “ _Itadakimasu_.”

The reason for his humor, it immediately became clear, was because that analogy gave him the idea to lap at fresh results of recent efforts on Uryuu’s lower abs. Jerking away with an unintelligible exclamation, he would’ve flailed off the couch if Kurosaki didn’t anchor him to it by his hips.

“Don’t do that! You never even asked if I was clean…What if I had an incurable STD?”

A single raised eyebrow answered for him. They both knew he was a complete virgin before Kurosaki without needing to admit it aloud. Uryuu averted his eyes and huffed an annoyed sigh to cover for the fact that he was blushing about it. Kurosaki went back to stealing little tastes of him. Drawing closer to the origin of the mess, which was paying rapt attention to the proximity of a soft mouth. He wondered how being engulfed by it might feel and swallowed hard at what his imagination conjured.

Fingers curled around the rumpled waistline of his pants and yanked them down. Kurosaki intentionally left them midway down his thighs to further impede movement. Uryuu was feeling very exposed with arms restrained, shirt torn open, and erection on lewd display. It didn’t help that Kurosaki was still mostly clothed and kneeling between spread legs with a sinful gleam in his eyes. The worst part was Uryuu hadn’t the slightest inkling what he would try next.

Once he had his fill, Kurosaki started exploring again. Kissing and caressing everywhere but the one place Uryuu wanted it most. He systematically located each erogenous area and experimented with the best tricks to trigger them. It took him a while to get bored of that game. Kurosaki moved to lie partway atop him, putting their hips in unabashed contact, and commenced another wild kiss. Uryuu arched against the heat and friction of a frustratingly clothed crotch but Kurosaki lifted up out of range. Trying again earned an amused chuckle for his trouble.

“Persistent, aren’t you? If you want it that much, I’ll give it to you.”

Relief tingled down the back of his neck as Kurosaki slid lower, dragging blunt teeth along his centerline as he went. Of course he didn’t jump right into it. No, he had to ease into it one dart of his tongue, one brush of his lips at a time. He was driving Uryuu mad in a viciously methodical way that both pissed him off and turned him on even more. Didn’t Kurosaki realize this level of detail was taking it too far? Was he getting back at Uryuu for being so arrogant with him?

_Finally_ , Kurosaki began to swallow him down. It was the most severe sensation and it literally took his breath away. Uryuu endeavored to get it back as his vision narrowed at the edges. He didn’t even have the air to moan like he wanted to. Kurosaki was that good. Or maybe he was just that inexperienced. Probably both.

“ _Kurosaki_ …” he whined before he could stop himself.

It was a warning as much as a plea, but he never expected Kurosaki to back off as though singed. An exasperated groan expressed his disappointment.

“And here I was thinking it would take a lot more to get you to call my name like that.”

His lecherous smirk urged Uryuu to breathlessly retort, “A moment’s indiscretion, that’s all. It’s not happening again.”

“Is that so? Maybe I should’ve mentioned this earlier, but I’m not the type who can turn down a challenge.”

“Neither am I.”

In light of his haughty attitude, Kurosaki narrowed his eyes. “You are, hands-down, the most stubborn guy I’ve ever met. I’ll give you that, Ishida. Too bad it’s only going to make things harder for you in the end.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“Nope. Just an observation.”

“Keep it to yourself,” Uryuu tersely advised, “And get back to work. I’m not paying you for witty conversation.”

His smile widened. “You’re not paying me at all. Not in money, anyway.”

“Wha—”

He was abruptly scooped up and placed on the floor, between Kurosaki’s parted knees in front of the couch. Then he cracked the zipper on his jeans. The action declared his intent without words. Uryuu gaped at his audacity.

“Fair is fair,” he said with a lazy shrug. “Return the favor and you won’t owe me anything for tonight’s session.”

“Why should I!?” shrilled Uryuu. “I was skeptical before but now I’m positive: you are _insane_ if you think for one second I would ever…”

The runaway train of his indignation lost steam as Kurosaki extracted his rigid cock and deftly rolled a thin condom over it. In spite of righteous rage, Uryuu found himself roused by the sight. A stray fantasy of doing what he just refused made his mouth moisten. He jerked his gaze away and disregarded an interested jolt in his groin at the notion.

“Did you think I was unaffected? Watching and listening to you makes me so hot,” he heatedly confessed, “I’m at my limit, Ishida. I can’t hold back anymore.”

Those words and the look on his face hit Uryuu hard, throbbing to the erratic beat of his heart. Kurosaki gripped a handful of his hair and employed a desperate kiss to emphasize how serious he was. Whereas he still didn’t like the idea of catering to the man’s whims, part of Uryuu wanted to do it. Wanted to make Kurosaki call _his_ name for a change. Uryuu remembered what it was like at the hotel to hear it as he watched him come. The inferno that had lit in Kurosaki’s eyes when the pleasure overwhelmed him.

“If…if I do this, we’re square, Kurosaki. And no more _teasing_.” His eager nod almost made Uryuu smile. So the beast could be lulled after all. Perhaps it could even be conquered. “All right. Hurry up and untie me.”

“Not a chance.”

“How do you expect me to—”

A firm tug to his hair cut him off. Kurosaki pulled him close and murmured, “This is the last time I’ll say it: you are not in control. I choose the pace.”

Devastating verbal blow dealt, he initiated a kiss more aggressive than any preceding it, sucking on Uryuu’s tongue and biting into his lower lip. Kurosaki broke free with a wet smack, as well as a dry smack when he reached down to deliver a warning tap to his ass. Was he actually suggesting that he would _spank_ Uryuu if he didn’t behave? What kind of conceited, vulgar character was Kurosaki? He would never endure something so twisted!

“That’s it, you’ve crossed a line! Let go of me!”

“You have a lot of boundaries for someone so young. I wonder if you really hate it or you just think you _should_. Did your parents discipline you like this?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what’s wrong with a little slap on the ass?” Kurosaki casually debated, “I bet you’d enjoy it if you let yourself.”

“It’s degrading! All of this is degrading and I was foolish to agree to any of it.”

“It’s only degrading if I do it out of disrespect or malice.” Kurosaki gave him another tap. “But I do respect you, and I definitely don’t want to hurt you.”

Uryuu shuddered as a firm hand snaked down to pump his erection. Even if he should be furious, there was no denying he was still very much aroused. A third smack to his backside did nothing to dissuade his dick. Instead, his breath hitched as his balls tightened. Kurosaki’s grip withdrew just in time.

“ _Bastard_ ,” he grunted, “Fuck you.”

The fourth strike stung and he could feel it reddening into a round mark. Uryuu moaned, wavering and astonished. Skewering Kurosaki with a scalding glower, he wasn’t anticipating to be suddenly thrust into the man’s lap.

“Open your mouth.” Uryuu just kept glaring at him. “Unless you want more. Do you like it when I spank you?”

Rather than answer that—and in the hopes of startling him—he opened his mouth and put it to use. The way Kurosaki gasped and froze up was a nice reward. No doubt he hadn’t been counting on Uryuu acquiescing anytime soon. Maybe he was never meant to at all. He wouldn’t put it past Kurosaki to construct this elaborate power play just to mess with him. Uryuu took sinister joy in upending the ruse. Attacking with an energetic vigor calculated to get Kurosaki off as soon as possible, he employed every naughty tactic that had been used on him first.

Sticking to his word, Kurosaki was in charge of the pace. He pushed both hands into Uryuu’s hair and chose how much of his cock was wedged between slick lips at any given moment. Yet, Kurosaki couldn’t dictate what he did with his tongue or how hard he sucked or when he swallowed around the length being steadily slid toward his throat. He sure as hell couldn’t keep Uryuu from humming against the hypersensitive head.

“Holy _fuck_ , don’t do that,” hissed Kurosaki, clenching his eyes shut. He forced them open to gaze down at him. “I know what you’re doing, Ishida. What will it take to get rid of that defiant glint in your eyes? You’re gonna… _Unh_! Shit, that feels so good…Gonna make me do something you’re not ready for if you keep showing me that look.”

Which, naturally, only encouraged Uryuu to be that much more insolent. He bowed forward to take the last of Kurosaki inside and redoubled his efforts to make him release. A handful of seconds later, success. The filthy things he swore as he was hauled over the cliff would have turned Uryuu’s ears pink under normal circumstances. As it was, he nearly followed Kurosaki right over the edge because of it. He surrendered his grasp on Uryuu’s hair and collapsed against the back of the sofa.

“You weren’t kidding about being at your limit, huh?” he snidely remarked. “You came so fast, Kurosaki. Under such sophomoric attentions, too.”

Although it was meant as a jibe, he chuckled at Uryuu’s demeaning joke. Then Kurosaki bent him over a knee and planted a resounding palm against his unguarded ass. His breath left him on a hoarse cry. Three more whacks and Uryuu was writhing in the man’s hold, fuming and on the verge of a humiliating climax. Gods, he _did_ like it! The faint splash of pain alongside a river of pleasure was an intoxicating combination.

They promptly fell sprawling to the carpet. Kurosaki was through going easy on him. Uryuu had no notice before his hard-on was slipping back inside a skilled mouth. Kurosaki squeezed a tender cheek as he bobbed above thrusting hips. The bliss that claimed him then wasn’t a wave or a rush. It was an _eclipse_ , smothering each of his senses except touch. Uryuu was reduced to an over-excited bundle of nerve endings that all simultaneously screamed. He may have screamed with them; it was difficult to say under the circumstances.

The figurative moon receded reluctantly. His whole body was tingling with residual energy and there was moisture at the corners of his eyes. Kurosaki raised a hand to gently wipe it away.

“Told you the second time would be better.” He untied the knot without being asked and helped Uryuu sit up. “How does it feel? Kinda jittery? That’d be the massive stream of dopamine I just triggered in your brain.”

Uryuu wanted to kick him. Kurosaki was so smug about it, completely unrepentant for putting him through this ordeal. Now that the high was fading, he was sore. Wrists, jaw, knees, groin, butt. He shot the cheerful man a withering look for the latter in particular. His shirt was wrinkled and his slacks were probably covered in—actually, they were spotless. A shiver broke over him as he deduced this was thanks to Kurosaki.

Shaking out of his stupor, he began to adjust his clothes while Kurosaki did the same. It was beyond time to get far, far away from this place. Now that Uryuu knew precisely what he’d been missing he could stop yearning for the inherently exhilarating X-factor Kurosaki represented. Tomorrow morning he would return to work focused with all this well behind him.

He was pulled back down to the floor when he tried to stand up.

“Kurosaki, I don’t care about your ‘policy’, I am not amenable to third round!”

“We can add it to your tab for next time.”

“What tab? No, forget it. There will be no _next time_.” He had more to say on the subject but Kurosaki picked that moment to start massaging one of his hands. “What are you doing?”

“Are your fingers numb? I worried the binds were too tight.”

Uryuu stared at him, struggling to make sense of this development. After his hands, Kurosaki moved up to kneading his shoulders, then rubbing his back. It felt indescribably nice in a way that had nothing to do with sexuality. He hesitated to label it ‘affection’. Even though the warm eyes that gazed back at him as Uryuu glanced over his shoulder implied it was.

“What the hell are you doing?” Uryuu repeated. “Is this a pathetic bid to score points with me after what you just did?”

He sighed. “Listen, I already said that was for your sake, not mine. I didn’t do those things to you because I’m some sadistic weirdo who can only get off by forcing people to do kinky shit against their will.”

“You didn’t exactly seem disgusted by it.”

“I wasn’t. Side note: just being in the same room with you turns me on, Ishida. I don’t think anything related to your body could disgust me.”

“Kurosaki—”

“I know that’s not what you meant, but I had to say it,” he blurted before Uryuu grew more annoyed. “My point is I can tell what you need even if you can’t. And if you need me to force the pleasure out of you so you can keep denying how much you want it, I’m happy to do that.”

Phrased so bluntly, Uryuu couldn’t help but take offense. Although a tiny pocket of his mind acknowledged the validity of Kurosaki’s statement, he wasn’t ready to accept it yet. He stood without interference this time. Donning his jacket and glasses, Uryuu walked to the entrance and stepped into his shoes. Kurosaki met him at the door but didn’t try to stop him. It was only once Uryuu opened it and started to leave that his hand was caught in a loose grasp.

“Let go.”

“Not yet.”

Taking hold of the other hand, too, Kurosaki reeled him in and draped Uryuu’s arms atop his shoulders to curve behind his neck. He crossed the remaining distance with a slow kiss. Despite his reservations, Uryuu returned it. The mood was completely different now. There was no snark, no venom in their deliberate motions. He found himself leaning closer and pushing his fingers into Kurosaki’s hair. It was unhealthy how swiftly the urge to murder him gave way to lust.

Uryuu pulled away before it got any worse.

“Goodbye, Kurosaki.”

“Good night, Ishida.”


	3. Chapter 3

Clouds drifting languidly overhead scattered the late-afternoon light. Leaves rustling relaxingly all around provided a simple soundtrack. People strolling casually by created a busy backdrop. Somewhere in the distance, a lion roared.

“What’s on your mind, Uryuu?” his mother asked. “You seem quieter than usual today.”

“I’m just watching the animals.”

It was a half-truth at best. While his eyes may have been tracing a giraffe’s steady progress of meandering across its broad enclosure, Uryuu’s mind was miles away. Specifically, back at Kurosaki’s apartment. That strangely intimate kiss right before he left had been in his thoughts more times than he could count. It had been about a week since that night of egregious indiscretions. Uryuu had absolutely no plans to ever return. And yet…

“They’re over there now,” His mother kindly pointed out the tower of giraffes in the opposite direction of his unfocused gaze. She wore a teasing smile that slowly dimmed when Uryuu turned to look at her. “Is it work? Are you under too much stress? Your father said your branch has been exceeding expectations all quarter.”

“Did he? I’m surprised he mentioned it.”

“Of course he did. Have I told you lately how proud we are of you?”

The ghost of a grin graced his pensive features. “You may have, yes.”

“But I hope you know that doesn’t mean you have to strain yourself. If the workload is too much—”

“It’s not that. My staff is very capable and the company is well-established; it doesn’t need much oversight.”

“I know how you can be, Uryuu. Don’t say you’re fine to make me feel better,” she gently admonished with her tone. “Stress is very bad for a young man’s health. Would you like a Xanax?”

Jolting in surprise, he squeaked, “What? No.”

“Are you sure? I have plenty.”

“Mother, since when do you need a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication?”

“Nice try, but we were talking about _you_.”

Uryuu frowned and started walking toward the next exhibit. When his mother had called yesterday for a routine check-in, she immediately detected a morose quality to his voice and demanded they go to the zoo together this weekend. Slander him sentimental, but Uryuu would never be too old to spend time with his mom. Throughout his childhood she was his anchor amid Ryuuken’s turbulent sea. Anything she could ask of him was already hers. Even if it meant feigning serenity all afternoon instead of brooding in the solace of his minimalistic flat.

“I apologize for my dour mood, but it has nothing to do with the company. Honestly,” he finally said, skirting a precocious peacock in the middle of the path. “It’s something that has been bothering me for a while. Something that…you won’t appreciate hearing.”

“Am I not allowed to make that decision for myself?”

He lowered his head in shame. Not because Uryuu had presumed to spare her the weight of his confession, but because he no longer could. The burden had grown too large to be shouldered alone and he had no one else to confide in. His mother slowed to a stop beside the leopard’s double-layered fence and solemnly faced him. She had that determined expression Uryuu remembered seeing whenever he was being inordinately tenacious. It declared that the truth would be coaxed forth whether he liked it or not.

“What if…what if I said I may not be able to give you an heir?”

Her eyes widened slightly at the apparent non sequitur. The mild shock soon dissipated, though. She didn’t interrogate him. Didn’t ask where the notion came from or why he would be pondering such a heavy topic. She merely regarded him for a minute before replying.

“I would remind you that your happiness is our priority, whether or not that includes grandchildren.”

“…That’s it?” Uryuu shook his head in bemusement. “You would just accept it? No questions asked?”

“What is there to ask?”

He snorted. “Any other Japanese parent would berate me for not having found a suitable wife yet. It’s usually the first thing Father brings up these days.”

Glancing away with a thoughtful hum, she pursed her lips and watched one of the leopards saunter past them. The cadence of her speech turned careful as she delivered a judicious response.

“Your father occasionally chooses to view reality through a lens of his own crafting. Even when it comes to his own son, he sees you not entirely as you are but also as he wishes you to be.”

“And how does he wish me to be?”

The bitter query was left hanging in the air between them. Uryuu wasn’t really anticipating elaboration. Announcing his expectations and the methods with which they should be met was one thing Ryuuken excelled at. Although he had never explicitly stated it, he was aware of his father’s vehement disdain for a certain ‘lifestyle choice’ others of Uryuu’s generation were making. The worst part was Ryuuken wasn’t alone. Societal stigma for homosexuality was still rampant across the country. If his own family didn’t reject him, the majority of his peers certainly would. He had no idea how Kurosaki was so open about it. The art industry was sure to be more forgiving of such things.

His mother suddenly took his hand in both of hers. “Be yourself, Uryuu. Don’t _ever_ force yourself into anyone else’s mold. Understand?”

She knew. All along, she must have known. Perhaps before he figured it out for himself. Presented with her unconditional support Uryuu wanted to look away, to hide the part of himself she shouldn’t have to see. He started to turn his head but she caught him with a touch to his cheek.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Uryuu, squeezing his eyes shut against a surge of remorse, “You must be so disappointed…”

“No, no, no. Oh, my sweet, brilliant, beautiful boy, no.” She enfolded him in an embrace and he automatically bent to nestle into it. “You could never disappoint me. _Never_. Go ahead and say it aloud. You’ll feel better.”

Taking a quavering breath, he choked out, “I…I’m gay.”

There was an abrupt loosening of the constriction around his chest and Uryuu could suddenly breathe again. It felt less like the incendiary revelation he thought it would be and more like liberation. She pet along the back of his neck and comfortingly cooed to him.

“That’s it. It’s okay, Uryuu, it’s okay. I love you so much, no matter what. Do you hear me?”

“Yes,” he sniffled, barely holding back grateful tears. “I love you, too.”

They separated after a time and appraised each other with brimming fondness and glossy eyes. All the nightmares he had suffered wondering how this moment might turn out were baseless. The type of scenario where she would judge him could never happen in the first place. Deep down he knew that, but having it confirmed at last was a priceless gift.

His relief would remain incomplete, however, because the other half of his parental umbrella was another story. Not to mention even she would have reproachful words for him if she knew about his interactions with Kurosaki. Uryuu blanched to think she would ever find out what a furtive pervert her son was shaping up to be. At least he wasn’t into drugs and binge-drinking. Kinky casual sex with a near-stranger wasn’t _that_ bad. Was it?

Tucking away his unsettling concerns, Uryuu mustered a weak smile and led the way to the herpetarium. His mother held fast to his hand for the rest of the day.

It was research. That was all.

Well, that’s what Uryuu told himself as he opened his laptop and settled back against his couch. It had little or nothing to do with it being nigh on sixteen days—not that he was counting—since he’d let Kurosaki do things to him that he still couldn’t reconcile with the very core of his character. To properly comprehend how he could veer so askew of his own code, some in-depth research was required.

Two hours later, Uryuu was floundering in equal parts sticky mess and intolerable epiphany.

Every flavor from plain vanilla to exotic red velvet with chocolate-covered cherries had been sampled for the sake of completion—pun very much unintended. Most of it was not to his tastes but some was. The irrefutable evidence was staining his pajama pants. He cast a mournful glance at the clothing catastrophe and debated throwing them away rather than deal with the cruel aftermath. Uryuu should’ve learned from his initial foray into the internet’s beguiling labyrinth that pornography only led to appalling outcomes.

Cursing Kurosaki for ever guiding him down this road, he jumped when his phone buzzed on the cushion beside him. It was a message from Kurosaki. Did the man have a sixth sense for malignant vibes aimed in his direction? Uryuu’s thumb hovered over the ‘delete’ key before he deigned to read it. Practicality demanded it. Yet, he was curious what would inspire Kurosaki to break his electronic silence after all this time.

_You’re taking too long._

He stared at his phone’s screen for several beats. The usual sense of irritation began to set in. It didn’t keep him from responding.

_Excuse me?_

_I’m not a very patient guy, Ishida. You shouldn’t keep me waiting like this._

_I didn’t realize I was. What do you want, Kurosaki?_

_You_.

Uryuu rolled his eyes and put his phone down. It was too late in the evening to be indulging in this ridiculous dialogue. Since when did prostitutes solicit customers through email? Was Kurosaki so low on clients that he had to harass one of his former ones? Not that Uryuu was ever technically a client, since no currency had ever been exchanged. The reciprocal blow job didn’t count.

His cell blinked again. Uryuu glanced over before he thought to stop himself.

_Are you busy tonight? Come over._

_Don’t you have anything better to do than annoy me? Paint an avant-garde self-portrait or something._

_I’d rather paint your portrait_.

_Reference that photo you took without my permission, then._

That halted Kurosaki’s rapid-fire relays. Uryuu shut down his laptop after clearing the browser’s history, just in case. Shifting to get up, he winced at the damp predicament in his favorite pajama bottoms. Straight to the bath for him. His phone was brought along solely in the interest of playing some calming music. The bath was drawn and his clothes were shed. Uryuu sank into the steaming water with a sigh. A perfect combination of melodic lull, humidity, and heat had him really relaxing for the first time in…

The song muted on a message alert. Sighing for a different reason this time, he snatched up his phone to see what fresh horror Kurosaki was subjecting him to now.

_What are you wearing?_

_An ugly Christmas sweater and a yellow tutu._

Well, Uryuu wasn’t about to tell him the truth. He’d never hear the end of it.

_Ha! Great imagery. I’ll take that to mean ‘naked’. I’m down to my boxers._

_Sounds like you need to catch up._

Oh, gods, why did he type that!? Frantically searching for a follow-up comment that would negate the damage he’d just done, Uryuu nearly dropped his cell into the tub when it cheerily trilled long before he had the chance.

_Done. Send me your number?_

_Why should I?_

_I want to hear your voice_.

No. Oh, no. Absolutely not, this wasn’t happening. Was Kurosaki actually _sexting_ him? Uryuu had heard of that type of thing from coworkers and television but he never imagined he would be on the receiving end. Not only that, but Kurosaki wanted to call him. Wanted to engage in honest-to-goodness _phone sex_. Would he expect compensation for the ‘service’? Even if he wouldn’t, this was too much. What was Uryuu thinking, anyway? There was zero chance he would go through with anything like that.

Typing in his digits, Uryuu cringed as he hit ‘send’. A few seconds later, he begrudgingly accepted the incoming call and put him on speaker so he could sink further into the water.

“What is this, Kurosaki?”

“ _What do you want it to be_?” His voice was already low and raspy. “How _do you want it to be_?”

“Oh, please…Where do you get your lines? Low-budget porn scripts?”

His soft laugh echoed around the small bathroom, a sound made more thrilling under the intimate circumstances.

“ _I’ve been thinking about you_.”

“How considerate. I’m doing just fine without the influence of an evil incubus in my life.”

“‘ _Incubus’, huh? I like that. Do I haunt your dreams_? _You’ve made a few appearances in mine._ ” As a matter of fact—but that wasn’t important. Fluid sloshed as Uryuu shifted awkwardly in the tub. “ _Was that water? Are you in the bath_?”

“Maybe.”

“ _Oh, fuck, that’s hot._ ”

Kurosaki’s breath hitched through the line, easing out as a ragged exhale. Was he…?

“A-are you…?”

“ _Yeah. You_?”

“No!”

“ _Why not_?”

Because he had just spent the better part of his evening watching dirty films and having the intended reaction to them. A couple of times. And because he refused to give Kurosaki the satisfaction.

“Has business been that slow lately?”

“ _Business? Oh, right. About that…_ ”

“What about it?”

“ _There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you. Can we meet up somewhere? If you’re busy tonight, we can—_ ”

“Spit it out, Kurosaki.” A blooming sense of foreboding sped his heart. “Are you sick? Am _I_ sick?”

“ _No, it’s nothing like that_ ,” he hastily amended. “ _It’s just…I wasn’t a hundred percent honest with you when we met. Shit, I really wanted to say this in person._ ”

“Too bad, we’re doing it now.”

“ _Yeah. Okay, here goes: I’m not really an escort._ ” A lengthy pause followed that confession. When Uryuu didn’t reply, he continued in a rush, “ _I’ve never been one, and to be fair I never explicitly said I was. You made that assumption based on the ad, which was—_ ”

Uryuu hung up the phone and turned it off. He didn’t need to hear anymore. Whatever motivations Kurosaki had for fabricating such a scam were moot. The lying, manipulative bastard got what he wanted and Uryuu wasn’t giving him another second to revel in it. More importantly, he wasn’t going to do himself the disservice of ruminating over this fiasco. Not for one more minute.

He woke up to a variety of missed calls and messages the next morning, all of which were disregarded without a second thought. Uryuu got ready for work and went into his father’s prized skyscraper like any other day. His mind was clear and focused on the day’s agenda as he strode down the hall to his office. Asano greeted him with a shallow bow and gave him the typical update. Sitting at his desk, Uryuu powered on the company laptop and straightened his tie while he waited for it to boot up. This would be a productive day with minimal distractions and absolutely no thoughts wasted on any scheming assholes that would heretofore remain nameless.

It was business as usual until just after lunchtime. Then Asano buzzed him on his company line.

“ _Uh, I’ve got a Kurosaki-san here who says you’re expecting him?_ ”

“What!?”

The receiver clattered to his desk. Uryuu leapt out of his chair as the door swung open and Asano’s head poked through.

“Is there a problem with your phone? Should I call tech support?”

“Who did you say was here?”

His secretary started to answer but promptly shut his mouth and stepped out of the way instead. Kurosaki appeared in the doorway, looking awkward yet resolved. Uryuu’s eyes just about flew out of his head before he fixed them into a righteous glower. Asano glanced between them in puzzlement.

“Should I call security?”

“Don’t call anyone,” snapped Uryuu. “Hold my appointments.”

“Eh? Ah, sure. Got it.”

With a final curious gaze, Asano closed the door behind himself. They stared each other down for a while. Neither was eager to have the first word. The manifestation of Kurosaki’s wild, colorful appearance in his bland, formal office was surreal. Although they hadn’t seen each other for a fortnight, it seemed like yesterday that Uryuu was bucking into his mouth and shouting out the most singular bliss he had ever experienced. The fact that a tiny fraction of him was pleased to see Kurosaki instantly infuriated him.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing in my office?”

“Ishida, I know you’re pissed. You have every right to be, but hear me out.”

“How did you even find me?”

“One of my uncles is a private investigator. He used your phone number to get your full name and did a little digging to find where you work. ‘Uryuu’ suits you, by the way.”

“Unbelievable. As if what you’ve already done wasn’t enough, now you’re stalking me?”

“I’m not stalking you. Can we just—Will you sit down and listen for a second? Please.”

The fury rumbling in his chest dimmed slightly at the earnest expression Kurosaki showed him. It was that same straightforward quality to the man that kept Uryuu just under his boiling point every time they clashed. This afternoon was no exception. He sank warily back into his seat as Kurosaki mimicked him.

“Why are you here?”

“It wasn’t my intention to intrude on you like this, but you wouldn’t return my calls or messages. Considering what you must have thought after what I told you last night, I couldn’t leave it that way.”

“Why should you care what I think? You got what you wanted, right? Duping some pitiful virgin into sleeping with you must be your idea of a hilarious joke.”

“See, that’s exactly why I tracked you down,” interjected Kurosaki. “I figured you would assume the worst without questioning it.”

“If you have a better story, let’s hear it.”

“It’s the truth, not a fucking _story_.” Uryuu quirked his eyebrows in subtle challenge. Kurosaki sighed. “One of my friends posted the ad on a dare. A group of us had been drinking and…it doesn’t matter. Point is, it was supposed to be a harmless prank at my expense. The ad was only online for about an hour. I deleted it right after you responded.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

He took out his phone and tossed it onto the center of the desk. “Call Chad, Orihime, Renji, Rukia, or Ikkaku. Call whoever you want, they’ll tell you the same thing. I’m a lot of things but ‘sex worker’ is not one of them.”

Uryuu glanced at the cell but didn’t reach for it. “If it was a hoax, why did you agree to meet me at the bar?”

An ounce of contrition pinched his features at last. Kurosaki’s eyes sought the floor as he leaned elbows on his knees and frowned.

“Okay, I’m not proud of this, but the guys thought it might be interesting to see what you looked like. I didn’t want to take it that far but they talked me into it.”

“Were they watching us in the bar?” Grimacing, Kurosaki ruefully nodded and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Horror leeched the blood from Uryuu’s face. “Ugh, that’s so much worse! I’d rather have gone on thinking it was just _you_ making a fool out of me.”

“No one thinks you’re a fool, Ishida. As soon as I met you it wasn’t a joke anymore. I texted them to leave us alone and they did.”

“So you could invite me to a hotel.”

“Well, yeah. How many times do I have to tell you how gorgeous you are before you believe it? I couldn’t turn down a chance to get with you, but I was never going to take your money. At the time, I thought that was exactly what you wanted anyway.”

“You’re sick, Kurosaki.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he firmly stated, straightening to look Uryuu in the eye, “I’m sorry I upset you. But I can’t say I regret meeting you even in that screwed-up situation. I know how it sounds, but there’s something about you, Ishida. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve been thinking about you. I can’t _stop_ thinking about you.”

“Get out of my office.”

The simmering rage was back and no paltry apologies would assuage it. Uryuu clenched fists around his armrests to keep from springing out of his chair and attacking him. Unaware of his inner struggle, Kurosaki remained where he was and readied a fresh appeal.

“I’m not asking for a relationship if that’s not something you would ever consider with me, but you can’t deny we have amazing chemistry.”

Uryuu was out of his seat and around his desk before he made the decision to go. The chair under Kurosaki was upturned as he rose in alarm. He threw one solid punch and they both went down, Uryuu snared in a reflexive grip. They hit the floor in a flurry of movement and quick breaths. His glasses lost purchase on his nose and went skidding sideways across the flat carpet. Brief moments of grappling resulted in Kurosaki pinning him with a labored huff of accomplishment.

“Get off me!” Uryuu grit, positively livid.

Because of the sudden assault, Kurosaki was angry, too. “Everything is a battle with you, isn’t it? You should be glad I’m not a prostitute, that I want you for your body and not your money. Why are you so mad?”

“Because it was supposed to be a _transaction_!” he blurted. Uryuu was too flustered to think clearly. He shouldn’t have been saying these things but the pressure was welling inside and it had no other outlet. “Something with no emotional attachments, no obligations, and completely on my terms.”

“You wanted to maintain control.”

“Yes!”

“Just like you do here and in your personal life.” Despite predicting where Kurosaki was going with this, he didn’t interrupt. “Every aspect of your life is calculated and deliberate. Isn’t it exhausting? Isn’t it soul-crushingly dull?”

The back of his head thumped against the floor on a defeated grunt. Admittedly, part of Kurosaki’s appeal was his ability to surprise him, to shake up his otherwise ‘soul-crushingly dull’ world. Uryuu craved it _almost_ as much as he feared it. Until that balance shifted, he had no choice but to fight it.

“Why would you go this far for someone you hardly know? Why would you invite me to your apartment after a single meeting? Why would you break the law to track me down and clear up a misunderstanding? Why would you—”

Kurosaki passionately kissed him, with just the right amount of tongue. When the gesture wasn’t spurned, he released Uryuu’s wrists and cradled the arch of his neck to deepen it. A panicked voice in the corner of his mind shrieked for him to stop. This was wrong for so many reasons. The imprudent experiment borne of a neglected libido had gone on too long. Kurosaki was a loose cannon that would shatter his life to pieces if he let it.

Contrarily, he was the one element injecting shots of vitalization into the tedium of Uryuu’s routine. Between talking with Kurosaki last night and seeing him today, this was the most enlivened he had felt in weeks. It was uncomfortable, unsafe, and unwise but it also wasn’t the tiniest bit boring. Particularly not when he adjusted his position to fit a thigh between Uryuu’s and press against him. A hushed moan resulted as excitement began to build.

Objections vanquished, Kurosaki eased away to murmur, “ _That’s_ why.”

“But…”

“I’m happy to keep convincing you. We should probably lock the door, though.”

The reminder that they were doing this at his place of work restored some of Uryuu’s common sense. He pushed Kurosaki back and brushed wrinkles from his clothes as he stood. His glasses were plucked and replaced as an afterthought.

“That won’t be necessary,” he sternly declined.

The very last thing he _ever_ needed was that sort of memory in this place; he would never get any work done here again. Uryuu returned to his seat and indicated that Kurosaki should do the same. Once they were settled into a more civilized stance, Kurosaki had a vital question for him.

“Does that mean you understand now?”

He steepled his fingers atop the desk and said, “No. I’m not sure I ever will.”

“Then—”

“It means I won’t be hiring a hitman to ‘erase’ you after all.”

“Hah. Wait, can you really do that?” Uryuu cracked a smirk at his uncertain tone. Kurosaki mirrored it. “Well, you’d need to have me killed to get rid of me now. Want to come over tonight?”

“Do you seriously think I’ll forgive you that easily?”

“Yeah, I do. ‘Cause I’m gonna do something really nice for you.”

“I hesitate to ask what you consider ‘nice’.”

“No, you’ll like this.” Scooting closer to lean against the desk, he lowered his voice to say, “How about I let you call the shots, just this once?”

Uryuu copied his clandestine countenance and asked, “As in, I could tie you up, hold you down, and spank you while you suck me off?”

A wicked thrill zinged through him just for speaking the words aloud. The roguish grin Kurosaki gained in response sparked another. He nodded and Uryuu licked his lips.

“If that’s what you want.”

Inching nearer to the middle of his desk, Uryuu ventured, “What if I wanted something else? Potentially involving whips and clamps and candle wax?”

“Damn, you’ve been busy, haven’t you? Spend a lot of late nights watching other people fuck?” He broke off on a sharp breath and bit his lip on a groan. “Does it turn you on that much? I bet you come so hard from seeing that kinky shit, huh?”

It took every bit of composure he could garner to offer a level reply, “Answer the question, Kurosaki.”

“Yeah. Fuck, yes. Whatever you want. We’d have to pick up that other stuff but I’ve got plenty of candles.”

Even though he was only testing, Uryuu was kind of stunned to hear him consent so enthusiastically. The residual doubts he harbored about Kurosaki’s desire for him vanished. The heated look he was giving Uryuu strongly declared it, as well. He swallowed against the urge to close the scant distance between their mouths for another kiss.

“In that case, we have a deal. With the addition of a few terms, of course.”

“Such as?”

“First, this is not a relationship but an _arrangement_ ; we will contact each other only to schedule appointments and not for social interaction. Second, your apartment will be the primary location, never mine. Third, this matter will be considered classified from everyone but ourselves. Fourth, we should establish a safeword.”

“Wow, you really have thought this through.” He felt his face flush at Kurosaki’s teasing tone and mock-impressed expression. “Those are all good terms. I only have one more to add.”

“What is it?”

Grabbing Uryuu’s tie, he gave it a yank so their noses were almost touching. Kurosaki grazed the lightest kiss to parted lips before answering.

“Aside from the next time we meet, you will cede control to me the instant you step foot into my living room. You will defer to my orders on all issues.” When Uryuu started to rebel, he got a harder tug to his tie and a warning stare. “You will come as many times as I feel like making you. If you argue or resist, I reserve the right to punish you as I deem fit.”

“Is that all?” he archly asked.

“Yeah, that’s the gist.” He frowned at Kurosaki’s blithe demeanor while rattling off such aggressive sentiments. Noting Uryuu’s reluctance, he promised, “Whether you realize it or not, this is what you need, Ishida. Give in to it once and you’ll see. Worst case scenario, we can call the whole thing off mid-session and go our separate ways.”

Put that way, it did seem suitably low-risk. As long as Kurosaki actually would stop if asked. Uryuu reeled from the revelation that he was well on his way to trusting this person in spite of his previous deception. He stared at Kurosaki for a tense, contemplative moment. Then he sealed their fate.

“Agreed.”

A broad smile brightened Kurosaki’s features before he reconnected a deep kiss. It was possessive and dizzying and Uryuu fervently wished they could swipe his desk clear and consummate the new contract right there and then. Fortunately, a knock on the door dashed those dangerous notions from his feverish brain. He and Kurosaki pulled apart just as Asano peered into the office.

“Sorry to interrupt, Ishida-san, but your father is…uh…”

Great. Uryuu would still have to hire that hitman.

“What about my father?”

“Um, he’s on his way up to speak with you.”

“Send him through when he arrives. Please see this man out and continue screening my calls.”

“Yes, sir,” his secretary acknowledged, apparently relieved not to discuss what he just walked in on. “Right this way, Kurosaki-san.”

He tossed Uryuu a meaningful look when Asano turned to play guide. It most likely translated as ‘to be continued’.

“Hey, didn’t we go to high school together? Asano Keigo, isn’t it? Kurosaki Ichigo.”

“Whoa, I thought that was you! How ya been, man? The years have treated you well!”

Uryuu shut the door on their impromptu reunion with a silent groan. Ryuuken was coming here? It wasn’t abnormal for him to swing by unannounced for an inspection, but he had just conducted one last week. If he was back so soon it signified nothing pleasant. His formerly pristine appearance was in shambles and his habitually flawless poise was a wreck. As Uryuu was debating making a trip to the restroom in a bid to repair both, Asano marched back into the room and blinked at him.

“What—”

“Your father isn’t really coming, I just said that to get rid of him.”

“Pardon?”

“You might want to reset the receiver on your phone.”

Asano ominously pointed at said communication device. Sure enough, it was still off the hook from when Uryuu had dropped it earlier. He turned to his secretary and coolly addressed him.

“Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”

Asano’s face scrunched into a slow wince that spoke for him. Uryuu’s heart skipped a beat as a minor panic-attack set in.

“Okay, before you freak out, it’s not a big deal. All right, boss? It’s not, ‘cause I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul, I swear.” He rested a hand to Uryuu’s shoulder for a second, pulling it away at the glare he got for it. “Look, I only listened because of the way you two were glowering at each other when I showed him in. I was concerned for your safety!”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough to be worried. Hey, I knew Ichigo pretty well when we were kids. He was a cool guy but that was like a _decade_ ago. Who knows what sort of person he is these days? The things you two were saying in here…”

“I should have your job for such a flagrant violation of privacy.”

“I’m not judging you. Not at all, Ishida-san,” he assured, palms raised and eyes wide with authenticity. “From one gay guy to another, I’m just trying to look out for you. All I’m saying is you might not want to rush into some intense shit like that half-cocked. Uh, no pun intended.”

“You’re…?”

“Yep. Happily partnered to a goofy little man named Mizuiro.”

“Kojima-san in accounting?”

“That’s the one.”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

“Same. About you, I mean. If I’d known we were rooting for the same team, I would have been friendlier. You just seemed so…”

“Cold and impersonal?” Uryuu scoffed. “I get that a lot. I appreciate your intentions but I’m not ‘rushing in’ to anything I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure? It sounded to me like you kind of hate his guts—just a smidge—but he’s too attractive to let that stop you. Or is that just how you talk to everyone?” Asano earned another glare for the question. He pulled a notepad and pen from his pocket. “Let’s compromise. Here’s my cell number. Text me Ichigo’s address and call me if you ever need a rescue. Or if you want to grab a beer and talk about it.”

“This is completely unprofessional. I’m not going to—”

“Mizuiro is also a fantastic listener if you’d rather chat with him. He knows all about S & M stuff. Not that we do that together, haha! You’re braver than I am… _Ahem_ …Anyway, feel free to use that number, Ishida-san. I gotta get back to work now.”

He left Uryuu standing in the middle of his office holding a scrap of paper, a befuddled scrunch to his brow.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t quite what he had envisioned.

Not that Uryuu had many preconceptions from the outset. Going by the noises and expressions people made in those raunchy video clips, he figured it must be the most remarkable experience known to man. So far, he just wasn’t sure. At first it was uncomfortable and embarrassing, until he thought to wrap a blindfold over those heated brown eyes. Even though he was told to stay silent, Kurosaki had insisted on relegating advice until he was gagged. Uryuu had also tied his limbs to the bed for good measure.

Adjusting his position for the fourth time, he slowly rocked up and eased back down. The way Kurosaki groaned through the fabric in his mouth like his world was ending one smooth thrust at a time did more for Uryuu than the act itself. Of course, Kurosaki had been instructed not to release until he was allowed; that could have something to do with his understated duress. Although Uryuu felt a little guilty for taking this long, it couldn’t be helped.

It was fine. It just wasn’t spectacular.

Then Kurosaki’s hips twitched up. Uryuu’s reprimand was lost in a gasp as the slight change in angle reached something inside him that hinted at a supernova lying in wait. He felt a shudder shake through Kurosaki where they were connected. The pace was momentarily abandoned in favor of holding perfectly still through a few careful breaths. When the sparks faded, Uryuu resumed the steady grind of his ass against him.

“You’re terrible at following orders, Kurosaki. Didn’t I tell you not to move?”

A muffled response prompted Uryuu to loosen the gag. “And you’re worse at taking suggestions, Ishida. The first time is only good if you let me find your pr—”

The material was impatiently shoved back between his lips.

“I’ll find it myself!” he retorted. “Just keep still like I asked.”

Because in spite of ample preparation and taking the initial steps slowly, Kurosaki was kind of big. Uryuu could easily picture him as the type to go crazy and pile-drive him into the mattress if he didn’t take precautions. Bowing forward, he braced his arms to either side of Kurosaki’s working chest and pushed back more forcefully. There! A soft moan slipped out and Uryuu tensed at the brief shock of pleasure. Several thrusts later he hit it again but it was intermittent at best. A target made all the more desirable for its elusiveness.

It wasn’t enough. Those stray glimpses of bliss wound him up like nothing else but wouldn’t let him go. The harder he tried, the further away it seemed until he was shaking under the strain of catching it. Kurosaki wasn’t doing much better. His sounds attained a desperate pitch and the muscles over his stomach rippled with restraint. He bit into the gag and tipped his head back on a strenuous exhale, hands gripping at the binds locking them in place.

Taking pity on him, Uryuu tugged the fabric from his teeth and kissed him. He gave the permission Kurosaki was dying to hear.

“No,” he stunned Uryuu by declining. “You first.”

So, he was directly disobeying commands now. Swiping the blindfold from Kurosaki’s eyes, he noted the resolute look they held. Uryuu shook his head. “Are you seriously arguing about this?”

“Untie me.”

“No.”

“This position isn’t ideal for what you need. Let me up and I’ll—”

That spot was grazed again. Uryuu loved watching his eyes roll back and his back arch whenever his body tightened up around Kurosaki like that. A heady stream of curses composed the rest of his sentence. He glared at Uryuu as though it was a calculated assault. It really wasn’t, but he wouldn’t put it past himself to try.

“Admit it, Kurosaki: you can’t stand being tied down.”

“I _hate_ it,” he growled, causing a surprised falter in Uryuu’s motions. “I hate not being able to touch you, Ishida. I would’ve gotten you off at least twice by now if you’d let me. Watched you shiver and heard you shout. I love that look on your face when you come so hard it scares you.”

“So much for ‘whatever I want’.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love having you ride me, too. We can make this a regular thing if you prefer it. But I know you’re frustrated—not in the good way—and I can fix that. Come on.”

Glancing to a bound wrist in emphasis, Kurosaki begged with his expression. Uryuu sighed. As usual, the bastard was right. He reached out to pick at the knots ensnaring him. Once freed, Kurosaki wasted no time lifting and flipping him to lie on his back without breaking intimate contact. Uryuu was reluctantly impressed by the flawless maneuver. He didn’t have long to appreciate the man’s agility, however, since his knees were abruptly pushed toward his shoulders to make room for a firm thrust.

Air rushed out on an astonished cry and his arms draped around Kurosaki’s neck of their own accord. His aim was impeccable. Uryuu shut his eyes and attempted to shut his mouth. Only one stuck. The curl of Kurosaki’s tongue at his throat, the drag of hands down his sides, and the adept nudge of hips won a litany of breathless sounds. Mere seconds of this was all he could withstand. Uryuu’s brain short-circuited as his entire body tensed. Kurosaki gave a few more thrusts before smothering a broken groan against his shoulder, fingers digging in where they clung to firm thighs.

Warm kisses were grazed up the side of Uryuu’s neck to the edge of his jaw. Kurosaki met bleary eyes with a crooked smile as if to say, ‘told you so’. One of these days, Uryuu was going to prove him wrong about something. _Anything_.

After a long kiss, Kurosaki gingerly withdrew. He didn’t go far. His lips found their way to the side of Uryuu’s knee and traced a gentle line upward.

“What are you doing?” he warily inquired.

“One down. Three to go.”

Uryuu’s eyes flared at the prospect. “Tell me you were joking about keeping a ‘tab’!”

“On the contrary, I take that sort of thing very seriously.” He started to reply but Kurosaki cut him off with a single, well-placed lick. “We can get there however you want, but it’s going to happen. Prepare yourself, Ishida.”

Over two hours later, Uryuu stumbled out of the apartment feeling worn-out in the best possible way. Kurosaki caught him at the last second to steal one more kiss, flashing a victorious grin as he closed the door. Uryuu collapsed into his car and stared out the windshield for several minutes. Any way he looked at it, that was the most fun he’d ever had. Kurosaki was sexy, talented, passionate, and endowed with a frightening amount of stamina.

That man was going to be the death of him.

He started the engine and curved his fingers loosely around the steering wheel. Even though he was technically sober, Uryuu wondered whether he was really okay to drive. A faint, low-grade buzzing had taken up residence in the back of his skull and it wasn’t going away anytime soon. At least not until the endorphins wore off. He was unfocused and a little dizzy. All he wanted to do was go home, shower, and take a long nap.

Two out of three would have to do.

His phone announced a new message as he wrapped a towel around his waist in his bathroom. It was from Ryuuken, a request to meet for a late lunch across town in thirty minutes. Uryuu would have to leave in ten to get there in time. The very last thing he wanted to do was face his father less than an hour after having the sense shagged out of him by another _man_ all afternoon, but his choices were few. When Ryuuken called, he always expected a favorable response.

Sending said response, he got dressed as if he was going in to work and headed back down to his car.

The drive to the cafe was characterized by a niggling worry that something he might do or say would give himself away. He could still practically feel Kurosaki’s touch on his skin. Even with a shower and change of clothes, it almost seemed like Uryuu’s scent was permanently altered. His face was slightly flushed—although that may have been the mild panic raising his blood pressure.

A deep breath got him out of the car. Another let him stroll through the restaurant doors. The hostess led him to Ryuuken’s table at precisely the correct meeting time, which was considered late by his father’s standards. Uryuu daintily perched on the hard chair, expertly concealing a twinge of soreness. Why couldn’t he have chosen a cushioned booth instead?

“Your branch has been doing well lately,” said Ryuuken by way of greeting. He wasn’t one for small-talk. “Well enough that you can afford to take the occasional day off.”

The panic made a comeback, strobing through his system like stinging tendrils of white light.

“Why? Did Mother mention something to you?”

Ryuuken’s permanent frown attained a puzzled twist. “Is there anything new to mention?”

“No. It’s just…you know how she worries, always telling me not to work too hard.”

“Yes, she certainly does,” he agreed, accepting the cover story, “Which is why I had something prescribed for her. Only until you’re married.”

“Ma- _married_?”

“A friend of the family has suggested their daughter might be a fit match. She is returning from her studies in Europe this week and agreed to meet with you next Wednesday. You may take the day to spend it with her.”

“Wait. This isn’t—”

“I was assured she is intelligent, modest, and very pretty.”

“That’s not the point. Don’t you think this is a bit archaic? Arranged marriages in the modern age are practically unheard of!”

“It’s merely a date, Uryuu, don’t be melodramatic. The least you can do is have a conversation with her before deciding she is an unfit wife.”

“Why should I be looking for a wife?” demanded Uryuu, verging on aggravation. “I would rather stay concentrated on my career.”

“A noble sentiment, though unnecessary. I know you are capable of pursuing both.”

“You flatter me, but I must disagree. There simply isn’t time for wooing women in addition to mainlining the most vital division of your company. If you would like to see profits continue to rise, leave me to my devices and out of your forced socialization schemes!”

Ryuuken’s eyes narrowed in the wake of his son’s spirited diatribe. It was obvious he had no intention of backing down but Uryuu had to try. It wasn’t the fear of a pointless blind date that motivated him, but the fear she would realize something his own father never had. It’d already occurred once, back when he was foolish enough to believe he was just ‘confused’. A sweet girl in one of his university classes asked and he said yes. An hour into the date, she squeezed his hand and he gave her a polite smile. She had tried to kiss him and he made up an excuse to go home early. The next day she pulled him aside after lecture to tell him she understood and was there for him if he ever wanted to talk about it.

The memory still made him cringe every time.

Rather than go through that again, perhaps it was better to finally fess up. Ryuuken deserved to know his only child was one hundred percent homosexual. He would find out eventually, anyway. Uryuu could save them both a lot of trouble down the road by clearing the misunderstanding sooner than later. It would be painful and humiliating. His father would yell and call him the most awful names but the waiting would be over at last. Maybe he would even mention Kurosaki.

“Well, if I’m not the luckiest fella in the room, I don’t know who is,” announced a smirking server sauntering up to their table. “Are you two brothers?”

“This is my son,” Ryuuken corrected.

“Oh, you gotta be pullin’ my leg! You know, you don’t look a day over thirty?”

He was friendly and a tiny bit effeminate, blond hair falling down his back in a loose ponytail. His uniform was pressed and spotless but accessorized with a bright pink bowtie. There was a golden hoop adorning his left ear. Giving Uryuu a sly wink, he pulled out a notepad and genially asked to take their orders. His voice failed him. Ryuuken seemed to have stolen it to enhance his own.

“Is there another server who can wait on our table?” he sternly snarked. “Someone with sufficient poise to abstain from base flirtations?”

“Aw, what’s wrong with a little flirting?” Turning to Uryuu, he ventured, “You must get it all the time, huh, Cutie-Pie?”

Uryuu lowered his gaze to the lacquered tabletop, his shoulders aching from the stress collecting there. His father’s cold request answered for him.

“Send someone else.”

The waiter planted a hand on his hip and huffed, “I’ll have one of the girls swing by. Will that do?”

He turned to leave without hesitating for the reply. As soon as he was out of earshot, Ryuuken had a few things to say.

“I find it hard to believe people like that exist. Does he have no shame? What must his family think?”

“He’s harmless.”

“He is _disgraceful_. No self-respecting man should conduct himself in such a tawdry manner.”

If it were any other stereotype his father was criticizing, Uryuu wouldn’t hesitate to tell him off for his bigotry. Yet, because this one happened to include him, he was suddenly speechless.

They were assigned a new server, who kept giving Ryuuken the evil-eye when he wasn’t looking. Uryuu couldn’t blame her. He was laden with enough shame over the incident to compensate for his father’s lack. Vowing to apologize to the man in the pink bowtie before he left the cafe, Uryuu meekly placed an order and fixed his visage into an unreadable conformation. He dutifully listened as his father rattled off the details of his upcoming date as well as some requisite business discussion. When their meals were brought out, he struggled to choke it down even though the quality was excellent.

Soon the check was paid. Ryuuken stood and buttoned his jacket with a practiced flick. He gave Uryuu a weird look when he remained seated.

“Go ahead without me; I’ll be stopping by the restroom before I leave.”

“Very well. Can I count on you to be cordial and amiable on Wednesday?”

Although it wounded him to do so, Uryuu promised, “I will be on my best behavior.”

Ryuuken nodded and strode away without another word. A long, relief-drenched sigh poured out of him as his father disappeared. Uryuu dropped his face into his hands and lamented this grotesque joke his life had become. He almost yearned for the days when he didn’t even register on Ryuuken’s radar.

The self-pitying moment passed and he rose to go find Pink-Bowtie. Uryuu asked the hostess, who suggested he check around back where employees usually took their breaks. Sure enough, the blond was leaning against the brick wall puffing on an artisan cigarette and idly watching the clouds glide by overhead. He straightened with a scowl to see Uryuu approaching.

“Did you get lost, kitten? Parking lot’s that way.”

“Actually, I came to apologize on my father’s behalf. He had no right to treat you that way.” His words softened the man’s irritable demeanor. “Also, I’d like to apologize for not speaking out against him as I should have.”

Taking another drag, he shrugged. “Nah, I get it. My own folks treat me like shit. Why shouldn’t yours?”

A pensive hush followed the blunt question. Uryuu knew exactly how he felt. Even if Ryuuken hadn’t said it to him, his heartless judgment still applied to his own kid. He went over to stand beside the man and join him in staring skyward.

“How do you bear it? Their disapproval, I mean.”

“Comes a time in every man’s life when he’s gotta do right by himself over others,” he sagely stated, smoke curling to match his hair. “Besides, you gotta keep in mind they’re not rejecting _you_. They’re rejecting the part of you they were taught to hate. It’s just ignorance, honey. It hurts but that’s life. You get over it.”

By the end of his speech, Uryuu knew he had been caught. He was starting to think there was a sign posted on his forehead that only Ryuuken couldn’t read. The man offered him a drag and, feeling bold, he took one. It was awful. He laughed as Uryuu coughed and blew the sickly sweet smoke away.

“Am I that transparent?”

“To a trained eye, perhaps. What’s your name, kitten?” He told him, passing the cigarette back. “Well, Ishida-kun, I’ve got some advice if you’d like to hear it.”

“Please.”

“Tell your family, if they don’t already know. Save yourself years of anxiety and heartache.”

“You don’t regret it? Even though they reacted badly?”

“It’s better to get it over with now than keep dreading the day they find out. Trust me.”

“Yeah…”

Eyeing him with a knowing gaze, the man asked to see his phone. Uryuu unlocked and handed it over. He tapped in his number under the name Otoribashi Rose and passed it back.

“You seem like a sweet boy, but I really do think you’re a little lost. Give me a shout if you ever need a guide.”

“Thank you, Otoribashi-san.”

Looking very suave, he flicked ash from his cigarette and smiled. “Call me Rose.”

The blind date Ryuuken had set up wasn’t a total dud. She arrived at the restaurant five minutes early and greeted him with a warm grin. The casual charm she harbored had them chatting like old pals in no time. For Uryuu, this was utterly unprecedented. She was intelligent, reasonably modest, and very pretty. Her name was Arisawa Tatsuki and in a certain sense she was the manliest lady he had ever met.

It was really too bad Uryuu wasn’t into women, manly or otherwise.

“Can I walk you home?” he offered as they exited the restaurant.

“Sure. That’d be great.”

They set off down the dark streets in peaceful silence. Since they had kind of hit it off at dinner, Uryuu wondered if she would expect a goodnight kiss. He would do it this time, if he must. Even if he had to think of Kurosaki to make it believable. Anything to keep her from discovering his secret and reporting it to Ryuuken prematurely. On that front, Uryuu had decided to follow Rose’s counsel. The plan was to make it through the work week and schedule a meeting with his father this weekend. That way he would have all of Sunday to recover from the emotional fallout.

Arisawa led them to a quaint duplex on the corner of a quiet neighborhood. They slowed to a halt outside the door and Uryuu turned to address her.

“I had a lovely evening, Arisawa-san. It was great to meet you.”

“You, too, Ishida-kun.” Her gaze briefly skated askance before she candidly continued, “Listen, I really like you so I’ve gotta come clean. My mom made me go on this date but the truth is I’m already seeing someone.”

“Oh? I see…”

“Yeah. Sorry,” she winced and rubbed the back of her neck. “Yasutora is a really great guy, but my folks don’t approve ‘cause he’s in a rock band. Lead guitar. So, they’ve been trying to set me up with someone more straight-laced. And I know guys hate hearing this, but I’d really like to be friends.”

“Of course. Who else would I hone my karate skills with?”

Returning his smile, Arisawa laughed, “Yes! We definitely need to start sparring together. Let me give you my number.”

While she was keying it into his cell, the door opened to reveal a faintly familiar face.

“Home already, Tatsuki-chan? I thought you would—” The redhead broke off on a gasp when she noticed Uryuu. “It’s you!”

“Uh, yeah. This is my date, Ishida Uryuu,” introduced Arisawa, “Ishida-kun, this is my roommate and best friend, Inoue Orihime.”

“This is the one Ichigo has been telling me about!”

“Eh?”

Uryuu inwardly prayed he would spontaneously melt and soak into the ground below rather than have this conversation. Due to his eidetic memory, he recognized the curvaceous woman from the photo Kurosaki had flashed him during their first meeting to test his preferences. Her appearance was much less startling with cutesy yellow pajamas on.

“The guy he said wasn’t ‘out’ yet,” Inoue clarified, to his everlasting chagrin. “I told Ichigo to be nice to you. Was he nice?”

“That’s one way to put it…”

Arisawa was glaring at him. “Guess I’m not the only person upholding a pretense. You’re gay?”

“Um,” tried Uryuu.

Giggling at the shade of red he was turning, Inoue pulled him into the house, chirping, “Come in, come in! You have to tell us all about it! Maybe we can help.”

Twenty minutes later, he was sitting on their couch holding a steaming mug of chamomile tea and spilling his life’s story to a couple of strangers. Uryuu confessed that he was undeniably gay and his mother knew but his father might literally murder him once he found out. Both girls swore to keep his secret. At Inoue’s urging, he reluctantly admitted it was largely due to Kurosaki that he had made any progress at all.

“He painted the conundrum in a hue that was…impossible to refute.”

“Meaning the two of you made out and you liked it?” Arisawa indelicately rephrased. “That sounds like something Ichigo would do.”

“I like the way Ishida-kun said it better. Lovely and lyrical. Are you a poet?”

“Businessman. CEO, actually.”

“Oh, no!” cried Inoue. “No, that’s not right at all! Management is all wrong for your aura. You should be doing something creative, like Ichigo. Have you ever tried writing or drawing or clay art?”

“Clay art?” repeated Arisawa. “Well, I guess he does have nice hands.”

“Very nice hands, uh-huh.”

Lifting one of them from his mug, Uryuu squinted at his flexing fingers as if he could see them the way they claimed to. It was still just a hand to him. He lowered it to his lap and took a sip of tea.

“I’ve never thought about doing anything else. Since I was a small child, my father always made it clear I was to follow in his footsteps. Run the company after him, raise a family to maintain our legacy. I never felt like I had a choice in the matter.”

Inoue sympathetically cooed. She placed a palm to his right shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. At the other end of the spectrum, Arisawa scoffed on his left.

“No offense, but that’s bullshit.”

“Tatsuki-chan!”

“You know what your problem is, Ishida? You spend too much time dreading the worst-case scenario instead of fighting for the best. Don’t you think your dad might change his tune if it’s his own kid who’s hot for other boys? Even if he wouldn’t, it’s important to stand up for yourself, no matter the bully.”

“You don’t know my father.”

“Maybe _you_ don’t know your father. It’s obvious you don’t really know yourself.”

He wanted to be angry but his defenses were always weaker around women. She had a fair point, at any rate. Uryuu was a proponent of the belief that no one could truly know another. Yet, the odds were slim that Ryuuken would ever crack his mind open long enough to slip a fresh idea inside. The two of them fought all the time but it never did any good. They were too pigheaded to ever compromise.

“Pardon my rudeness, but I’m not sure you’re one to talk about being honest and standing up for yourself. Didn’t you recently tell me you went on a date with me despite being spoken for?”

“It’s not the same,” Arisawa retorted. “My mom knows I’m seeing Yasutora. This date was the only way I could get her off my back for a while.”

“So you admit to acquiescing to her wishes against your own?”

“It was a temporary solution! I just got back from a semester abroad, but I’ll make her accept the situation eventually.”

“And if she refuses to see it your way?”

Unsettled by the way he and Arisawa were glaring at each other, Inoue blurted out a friendly change of subject.

“So, you and Ichigo, huh? Did he tell you we used to date?”

“He mentioned it, yes.”

“Isn’t there anything you want to know about him? He’s not exactly an open book. Now’s your chance to hear all the best gossip!”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re not curious about your boyfriend?” asked Arisawa.

“Kurosaki and I are not boyfriends; we aren’t even technically dating. Our relationship is purely physical.” The girls exchanged an inscrutable look before turning serious gazes toward him. “What?”

“Ichigo doesn’t do ‘purely physical’,” Inoue cautiously explained. “He likes to pretend he isn’t, but he’s a sensitive and thoughtful guy who feels very deeply about the people in his life.”

“There are no feelings between us, I assure you.”

Yet, the way their eyebrows rose in thinly veiled disbelief had him second guessing that assertion. Here were two women who knew Kurosaki quite well, perhaps for many years. If they said he was the type to get attached, who was Uryuu to argue? Never mind ‘no feelings’ was one of the key conditions of their sordid arrangement. There was no guarantee Kurosaki wasn’t hiding anything of the sort from him. Nearly two months after they met, Uryuu still knew nothing substantial about the man.

Paying close attention to the thoughts playing out across his face, Inoue invited, “Are you sure you don’t want to hear about Ichigo?”

He shook his head and stated, “I’m positive.”

Getting to know Kurosaki could mean developing feelings, which would inevitably ruin everything. Arisawa frowned and Inoue nodded, though he could tell they didn’t understand. It wasn’t a leap to suggest he didn’t fully understand it himself. Uryuu set down his cup and rose from the sofa with a murmured excuse to leave. They didn’t let him go until phone numbers and promises to keep in touch were exchanged.

As he said goodbyes at the door and walked toward the street, Uryuu realized his social circle had expanded exponentially since meeting Kurosaki. First Asano and Kojima—who had been inviting him to hang out with them more and more often—then Rose, and now these two kind-hearted women. For the first time in his life, he was working up to a small collection of people he could call ‘friends’. That was new. Yet, the allure of friendship was nothing compared with what Kurosaki had to offer. It’d been less than a full week since they were last together, but Uryuu was already longing for another visit.

This thought in mind, he did something he knew he shouldn’t: he spontaneously caught a cab to Kurosaki’s place.

Glancing up at the second story entrance from the sidewalk below, Uryuu halted when it opened…and a petite woman walked out. Her short dark hair fluttered in the evening breeze and she pushed it from her face as she smiled at Kurosaki, leaning against the ajar door frame. From this distance, he couldn’t hear what was said but he could clearly see the woman lean up to steal a quick farewell kiss. The door closed in synchrony with Uryuu’s expression.

How naive he had been to assume Kurosaki would mess around with only one person at a time. As skilled as he was in bed, it made perfect sense that he would be the type to have multiple partners at once. Especially considering he and Uryuu weren’t even dating. It was just half an hour ago that he was emphasizing this fact to two fresh acquaintances. Besides, they had never discussed exclusivity in any way. Kurosaki wasn’t doing anything _wrong_.

It still hurt to watch the smiling woman descend the stairs and walk toward him. Uryuu froze when their eyes met. So did she.

“It’s you!” _Not again_ , he lamented. “Wow, what are the odds?”

“Do I know you?”

“Although I like to argue that Ichigo’s works have a life of their own, no, we haven’t formally met.”

“Sorry?”

“Well, there’s zero chance I wouldn’t recognize the subject of his latest masterpiece in the flesh.”

That hit Uryuu like a bag of oranges. “Are you saying Kurosaki… _painted_ _me_?”

“He didn’t tell you?” she asked, shaking her head with a little laugh. “Classic Ichigo. It’s his best work yet, if I do say so myself.”

“Surely it’s not as good as the one he did of you.”

Despite his best attempt to contain it, some of his bitterness seeped into the words. Uryuu read it in her face before she stepped closer to give a firm reply.

“Why would he paint his annoying agent? Hi, I’m Kuchiki Rukia. Owner of a modest art gallery and long-time _friend_ of that idiot upstairs.” He returned the introduction in addition to an apology that she waived with a wry smile. “You saw me leaving just now, didn’t you, Ishida-kun?”

“Yes,” he admitted, face flushing in embarrassment.

“That was a platonic peck to the cheek, just so you know.” Uryuu apologized again. “Don’t worry; Ichigo likes to act macho sometimes but he’s the biggest softie when you get to know him. He would never cheat on you.”

To which Uryuu robotically responded, “We aren’t dating.”

“Riiight,” allowed Kuchiki. “Then I must have imagined the look you just had that implied the opposite.”

“Must have.”

“Okay, well I’ve gotta hit the road. Early morning and all that. It was great meeting you, Ishida-kun!” Handing him a business card for her gallery, she offered a cheerful grin and chirped, “Call me if you get a craving for fine art. Or if that knucklehead gives you too much trouble.”

Uryuu watched her stride down the sidewalk to her parked car. This night was officially too surreal for his liking. He blamed the full moon hanging in the cloudless sky overhead. Glancing away from its insipid glow, he debated turning right around and heading home. There had been one too many odd occurrences that day to risk more. Yet, there was the issue of this so-called ‘masterpiece’ Kurosaki had secretly produced without his knowledge or permission. Answers were required and Uryuu would hear them.

The surprise plastered across Kurosaki’s features as he pulled open the door was a nice bonus.

“Ishida? Hey…Did we have plans tonight?”

“No. I hope you don’t mind me turning up unannounced this once. I won’t make a habit of it.”

“Yeah, of course,” he assured, stepping aside to let him in. “No problem.”

“Are you sure I’m not interrupting anything? I ran into your agent outside.”

Kurosaki led him further into the living room before replying, “Rukia? She just stopped by to nag me about not giving her any new paintings in a while.”

“Ah.” Choosing his words and tone carefully, Uryuu asked, “Another former lover?”

“What? No! Rukia and I never…She’s like a sister. That would be gross.”

They sank onto the couch and gazed at each other blandly. Showing up unscheduled like this was a novelty. Normally Uryuu had hours or even days to anticipate the meeting, to daydream about how it might be and long for it to happen. It grew in his mind until he couldn’t contain his excitement and they attacked each other the instant he entered the apartment. This was nothing like their usual encounters and he wasn’t sure how to compose himself under the untested circumstance. Uryuu wasn’t alone, if his host’s awkward atmosphere was anything to go by.

“All the same, I should have called to confirm you were available. I would hate to disturb your important work.” Breaking eye contact, he coolly added, “Or your private leisure.”

Smarter than he had been given credit for, Kurosaki got the gist without needing it spelled out. He touched Uryuu’s hand and declared, “You are the only ‘private leisure’ I ever have, Ishida. You know I’m not sleeping around, right?”

“It wouldn’t bother me if you did,” lied Uryuu, pulling free of the loose hold. “Our bodies are our own.”

Kurosaki’s brow furrowed in aggravation. He caught Uryuu’s wrist in a tighter grip and brought their faces close together, not quite touching. The sudden aggression wasn’t frightening so much as electrifying.

“Your body is _mine_ , and I don’t want anyone else touching it.” Because he didn’t know what to say to that, Uryuu remained silent. Kurosaki seemed to reconsider the statement, continuing, “In fact, I don’t even want you touching yourself unless I permit it. From now on, I’m the only one who can make you come.”

Blue eyes widened at the absurd notion. Where was this possessiveness stemming from? Kurosaki couldn’t legitimately expect him to curb his urges just because he was ordered. They didn’t even visit very often, maybe twice a week at most so far. Was this some new form of punishment or merely a test? The way Kurosaki’s eyes narrowed and his grip tightened implied he was serious.

“Why should I—”

“Because I’m adding it to our list of terms. We’re exclusive. All right?” Uryuu reluctantly nodded, but it wasn’t enough. “Say it.”

“My body is yours.”

Something like joy and terror flared in his chest at the quiet vow. It was mirrored in Kurosaki’s expression before he darted in to seal the contract with a kiss. But the kiss was only the beginning and by the time they separated an hour later—breathless and spent—Uryuu had forgotten all about the mentioned portrait.


	5. Chapter 5

“ _Kurosaki_!”

His own cry startled him from the midst of a wicked dream. Uryuu pushed the churned covers aside and sat up, panting and staring at the hard-on spreading a damp spot in his shorts. It was the third night in a row that he had woken up like this, and it was all Kurosaki’s fault. Something about making the promise not to sleep with anyone else or even masturbate without permission was wreaking rampant havoc in his subconscious.

Their next meeting wasn’t for another couple of days. Uryuu didn’t think he could wait that long.

His cell phone was in his hand and lit up at the press of a speed-dial within seconds. He almost hung up halfway through the first ring. It was the middle of the night and Kurosaki had to be deep asleep. Consideration aside, this scenario was just too pathetic. Why was he taking his vow so seriously? It wasn’t like he would know Uryuu had reneged. He didn’t even need to feel guilty about it. Abstinence outside of his interactions with Kurosaki was more than he had any right to demand. It was probably a stupid game to him, anyway. Uryuu should just hang up and—

“ _Ishida? ‘Time is it…Somethin’ wrong?_ ”

_Shit_. Squeezing his eyes shut, Uryuu considered pretending it was a misdial or simply not responding at all. By the slur of his words, Kurosaki might’ve even been too tired to remember it tomorrow. There was still time to take it back.

“It’s nothing. Never mind.”

His thumb hovered over the red ‘end’ button, but Kurosaki said, “ _Wait! You didn’t call me by accident, did you? Why are you breathing like that? Are you…?_ ”

He swore when he got it. Uryuu had already given himself away.

“It’s your fault, Kurosaki, assaulting me in my dreams like that!”

The pitch of his voice was alert and interested as he replied, “ _What was I doing to you_?”

Resigning himself to this, Uryuu put him on speaker and set the phone on the pillow beside his head. His fingers trailed up and down the line of his chest and stomach under his shirt as he grudgingly shared an overview of the dream. They were camping somewhere in the mountains—Uryuu had always loved nature—and Kurosaki jumped him in their tent. Broke out the bungee cords and rendered him helpless. Then he grabbed a flashlight.

“One of those miniature ones with the rubberized grip,” Uryuu described for the sake of clarification. Kurosaki laughed. “What’s so funny?”

“ _You are such a dork_ ,” was the affectionate explanation, “ _Thinking_ _up all these little details even in a wet dream_.”

“I am not a ‘dork’! You merely lack the imagination to conjure more than vague outlines and the idea of motion.”

“ _Sorry, sorry_ ,” Kurosaki glibly begged forgiveness. “ _So, what did I want you to do with the flashlight?_ ”

That was where things got intense. He told Uryuu to bite down on it, along with the caveat that if he dropped it even once Uryuu would be denied release. The admission made the real Kurosaki groan and comment that it sounded like a fun game. The strained tone indicated that he was catching up to Uryuu fast. The dream was turning him on, as well, and they were diving right into their second session of phone sex as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

“Of course I tried to keep it in place but you were fucking me so hard—”

“ _Ah, damn_ ,” murmured Kurosaki with a hitch in his throat, “ _Say that last part again_?”

Uryuu licked his lips and let his fingertips graze his erection through the thin fabric of his shorts. He failed to swallow a short hiss at the sparks of pleasure that caused. One good stroke and he would lose it.

“You were fucking me so hard, Kurosaki. So hard that even with my face pressed into the sleeping bag, I couldn’t hold onto that little piece of plastic and rubber. I dropped it, and you knew right away because I could moan that much louder without it stuck between my teeth.”

“ _Yeah, I bet you could. Have I told you how much I love the sounds you make_?”

He had, and it was mutual. Uryuu’s erection twitched to hear the ragged rush of the other man’s hastened breaths through the receiver. Short sighs and heavy hums composed a sexy kind of music that filled his ears and throbbed in his blood. Kurosaki asked what happened next and he shivered at the drawling cadence. There was no doubt they both already knew the result of dream-Uryuu’s transgression but he vocalized it anyway.

“You held me down and teased me until…”

Uryuu really didn’t want to admit the last part and set a new precedent. On the other hand, he knew it would be a death blow for Kurosaki to hear him say it aloud.

“ _Until what, Ishida_?”

“Until I begged you to let me come,” he almost whispered. “But you still said ‘no’, you evil jerk.”

Sure enough, a litany of stuttered curses signified how that very nearly spelled the end for Kurosaki. Dragged into a similar state, Uryuu was officially out of patience. He made it clear that it was time for Kurosaki to give the word. Uryuu had followed the rules and it was only fair. Picturing the way Kurosaki had to be pumping himself, shifting and stirring the sheets from desire invoked by Uryuu’s words, had him pulling out his cock to hold an imminent orgasm at bay.

“ _Are you riding the edge, too_?”

“Kurosaki, stop stalling! I won’t beg…”

“ _You don’t have to. Go ahead, Ishida, I want to hear you._ ”

He didn’t wait to be told twice. A familiar pleasure sizzled through Uryuu as his conversation companion audibly joined in the fun. There was something delightfully dirty about the whole thing, from sharing the kinky dream to hearing Kurosaki’s unfiltered sounds through his cell to seeking permission for release. It was not-quite taboo and twice as exhilarating for it. So busy reveling in the act was he that Uryuu couldn’t be bothered with doubts or shame this time. In fact, he was thinking they should try this again in the future. And that may have been the most dangerous aspect of the whole situation.

“I-I have to go. Work in the morning.”

“ _Yeah,_ ” breathed Kurosaki, “ _I have a commission first thing._ ”

“Why didn’t you say so? If I knew you had an early day, I wouldn’t have—”

“ _That’s why I didn’t mention it. I’d rather lose a little sleep than miss out on what we just did. I’m glad you called._ ” The tone of his voice changed when he added after a quick inhale, “ _You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? I’ll do something really nice for you next time._ ”

Swallowing a tremulous question, Uryuu hummed vague acknowledgment and said, “See you this weekend.”

“ _Can’t wait_.”

He tapped the ‘end call’ button and marveled at the epiphany that Kurosaki really seemed to mean those words. As much as it was Uryuu who needed their strange arrangement, he wasn’t the only one benefiting by far. Yet, the way he had fiercely opposed the idea of submission in the beginning was contrasting too sharply with how readily he assented to it now, and that was a tad unsettling. Either Kurosaki was that persuasive or this was something Uryuu had been secretly yearning for all along. Just like the man had insisted from the start.

The question circling his mind as he chased sleep was: could he really live with being the type of person who longed for sexual subjugation?

A simple melody played through the darkened room. Noises dimmed and voices hushed. A stream of cool air floated down from the gushing vents overhead. Then the lights flashed radical red and violent violet and garish green as the bass kicked in, thumping in time with Uryuu’s heart. The song was infectious, drawing more club-goers to the dance floor around him. He smiled when Asano pulled a silly move and leaned in to kiss his boyfriend, Kojima, whose eyes always rolled with a hint of affection. In that moment, Uryuu was glad he hadn’t declined the invitation to go dancing with his gay friends.

Suddenly a tall, burly man wearing too much cologne sidled up behind him. His hands sought Uryuu’s hips as hot breath gusted against the perspiration-damp nape of his neck. Nope. There were a lot more things he was willing to try these days, but anonymous rhythmic grinding was not high on the list just yet. Uryuu politely disengaged, signaling to his entourage that he would be at the bar. They followed him without a moment’s hesitation.

“That guy was _fit_ ,” Kojima informed him, “If a bit over-eager.”

“We wouldn’t let you dance with a train wreck,” agreed Asano. “You sure he’s not your type?”

“Irrelevant.”

Turning to the approaching bartender, Uryuu ordered another round of drinks for the three of them. Propping against the bar beside him, Asano met his gaze and slowly nodded.

“You’re still seeing Ichigo, huh?”

“Kurosaki and I are not—”

“Not dating, yeah. You’ve mentioned that once or twice.”

Uryuu took a refreshing sip of his cold cocktail and replied, “Because it’s true.”

“So, that wasn’t who you were texting all morning during the meeting?”

“I was wondering about that,” interjected Kojima. “It’s not like Ishida-san to be on his phone instead of taking meticulous notes, making inspired comments, and paying rapt attention.”

Taking their jibes in stride, Uryuu pushed their drinks at them and refused to take the bait. It was true the office had been buzzing lately about his unusually chipper mood and what might be the cause. Productivity was up, and so was the mystery surrounding their young boss. Let the entire office speculate on his personal life, but he wasn’t about to admit that interacting with Kurosaki had a mostly beneficial impact on his work performance. Not to these two gossips, anyway.

“If I ignore his texts or reject a call, I’ll pay for it later.”

Kojima scrunched his nose and asked, “What does that mean?”

“You haven’t told him?” Asano shook his head. Well, he had promised Uryuu he wouldn’t tell a soul about his sordid deal with their mutual _artista_ acquaintance. “Kurosaki and I have a special arrangement. We…uh…”

Noting his distress, Asano dipped down to whisper into Kojima’s ear. Dark eyes widened and his mouth formed a telltale O-shape. Uryuu fought the rise of a light blush. He didn’t want to know how Asano chose to phrase it. Whatever it was instantly intrigued Kojima. Leaving his beverage to warm, forgotten in his hand, he inched closer to Uryuu and lowered his voice.

“Do you mind if I ask…what kinds of things do you do together?”

He was afraid of that. But the liquor made him bold and Uryuu found the courage to give an example—of his and Kurosaki’s most recent romp, as it happened.

It had been the first time Uryuu left the apartment clear-headed and only partially depleted. He had shown up expecting the usual triple round treatment but a petty argument had rapidly derailed any amorous momentum and turned Kurosaki against him. Rather than a roll in the sheets—or on the floor, against the wall, bent over furniture, etc—Uryuu had been trussed up and tossed to the couch, fully clothed and half aroused.

“That crazy bastard made me watch some inane soap opera for over thirty minutes before he finally touched me,” Uryuu grumbled around his little plastic straw. “He even had the nerve to say, ‘not all punishments are sexual,’ as if he couldn’t tell I was practically aching the whole time, atrocious acting aside. It didn’t help that I’d kept thinking of what we had done the very night before.”

Realizing what he just said and who he said it to, Uryuu snapped his lips shut around the straw and sipped. Both Kojima and Asano were staring at him with odd expressions. That was probably an ‘over share’ moment but he had no one else to gripe to about how immature his not-boyfriend could be at times. Worst of all, Kurosaki hadn’t even fucked him that night, electing to go with a mere sixty-nine instead. After weeks of systematically trying just about everything imaginable, that position was practically _vanilla_. He was still annoyed about it.

Almost enough to do something reckless…like sleeping with someone else for a change. That would teach Kurosaki to take him for granted. Maybe that assertive bear would make a fine dance partner after all. Spotting said dancer across the floor, he concurred that the man was handsome, if a tad on the older side.

“Do you think it would be weird to ask Ichigo for tips?” muttered Asano. Kojima pinched him. “What? Don’t pretend you weren’t just as turned-on by the boss’ story!”

Uryuu’s blush was back but he played it cool. “Ask him if you want. That man is shameless. And incredibly creative in more than just his art.”

Speaking of his art, when asked about a certain portrait mentioned by his agent, Kurosaki had denied painting any such piece. So, either Kuchiki had impulsively lied or he was hiding its existence from Uryuu for some equally mysterious reason. Either way, Kurosaki wasn’t volunteering anything. Just like he wasn’t going to concede to Uryuu’s requests without giving him a hard time about it first—pun intended. Of course, Kurosaki’s lack of cooperation of late only made him more inclined to be rebellious. Yes, that well-built gentlemen deftly gyrating to the energetic music was looking very tempting indeed.

His pocket buzzed. As though sensing his capricious mood, Kurosaki had just sent him a brief text.

_Come over_.

Uryuu immediately replied, _Why?_

_I don’t want to wait two more days. I want you now._

Oh, so it was fine to make Uryuu wait thirty-seven minutes for a blow job but Kurosaki couldn’t be bothered to wait until their scheduled meet-up? He didn’t appreciate the double standard. For the first time since their little ‘game’ was established, Uryuu decided to ignore him completely. Turning off his phone, he tucked it into his pocket and returned his attention to the people he was with. Asano was nibbling on his straw and chattering about an independent film he watched the other day. Nodding attentively, Kojima swirled his untouched beverage just to hear the ice clink in time with the music. Uryuu finished his drink in one gulp and got up to visit the restroom.

Inside, he bumped into none other than the sage waiter he had met about a month ago, Otoribashi Rose. Only he was currently outfitted—rather sophisticatedly—as a _she_. That long, curly blond hair complemented a deep scarlet dress and matching pumps. Uryuu knew he was gaping but the transformation was too shocking to contain his reaction. If he hadn’t met Rose as a male, he might very well have assumed this was a tall, beautiful woman. Even the makeup was masterfully applied, understated and classy.

“Well, if it isn’t young Ishida-kun from the restaurant. You never called me,” she clucked her tongue and wagged a red-tipped finger at him. “Naughty boy.”

“I-I’m sorry about that, Rose-san. I was going to, honestly. My life has just been so chaotic lately and—”

“Relax, I was only teasing! If I took it personally every time I got stood up, I’d never have the courage to flirt with anyone again.”

He took a steadying breath and offered a meek smile. “That would be a shame, considering how enchanting you look tonight.”

“Ishida-kun, you charmer,” cooed Rose, touching her cheek in dramatic modesty. “Well, go on. Tell me what has your life in such a flurry?”

They strode away from the door to perch on a bench tucked into an alcove beside the sinks. It wasn’t exactly a private room, but it was offset enough from the main bathroom that people coming and going wouldn’t interrupt their conversation. Without delving into too many details, he told her about his situation with Kurosaki and how it was becoming more strained as Uryuu fought his own frightening desires as well as the artist’s overwhelming enthusiasm. It flowed so easily that he found himself vocalizing things he would normally never dare admit to another soul. There was something about the placid patience in Rose’s disposition that totally disintegrated his guard. Or maybe he was just that desperate to talk about it.

“It was exciting at first but now I’m not sure breaking all these inhibitions is such a good idea.” Brushing at a spot of dirt on his jeans, Uryuu glanced up to see Rose watching him with a knowing gaze. “Do you think I should slow things down between us? Or am I being too cautious?”

“I think you are the only person who can say what you are ready for and what should take more time.”

He sighed. “I figured you might say that.”

“I will say, though, that despite your aggravation with this ‘Kurosaki’, it sounds like he has been good for you overall. We all benefit from a firm push now and then.” Uryuu started to mumble something to indicate he understood, but Rose changed the subject before he could finish the first syllable. “More than dwelling on the physical aspect of your relationship, I’d like to know what made you choose not to date him. You have to realize it’s almost impossible to keep feelings out of something like this. Particularly at your age!”

That was a subject far too complicated for an informal restroom therapy session. How could Uryuu explain his misgivings and concerns when he didn’t entirely understand them himself? How could he explain that his life was largely structured by long periods of medium-to-high anxiety and the notion of investing emotional attachment into another person was mentally debilitating? That didn’t even take into account Kurosaki’s personality or their compatibility levels. Even pondering it made Uryuu antsy. It was simply too much to handle.

So, instead of formulating a response to that insightful query, he artfully changed the subject again.

“I love your makeup, Rose-san. How do you draw it so evenly around the eyes?”

Pursing her lips because she could see right through the ruse, Rose magnanimously allowed it. She snapped open a white clutch and reached in to grab two small, narrow tubes. Within seconds she had Uryuu standing in front of the mirror with his glasses off and a tiny brush grazing the line of his closed eyelid.

“Someone with eyes as vivid as yours should know how to emphasize them. Eyeliner is a good place to start. A little mascara doesn’t hurt, either.” After a moment, both eyes and lashes were lightly adorned in matte black. Uryuu blinked at his reflection and marveled at the difference a bit of lacquer could make. “Mhmm. It’s official: I have to see you in drag.”

“What?”

“‘What’ what? Are you saying you’re too macho to wear a dress?”

“Well, no, I guess not…”

“Come over to my place sometime,” intoned Rose, jotting down the address on an old receipt as she spoke, “We’ll do clothes, makeup, hair—the works. It’ll be a blast! Say you’ll come?”

Still staring at his own reflection, Uryuu tentatively assented, “I will.”

“Good. Now, keep these glasses in your pocket for the rest of the night. They spoil the aesthetic.”

“But—”

“No objections, Ishida-kun, you don’t need vision for dancing. Now, let’s go tear it up!”

Left with few alternatives, Uryuu obediently followed her out to the main floor half blind, where they were quickly joined by Asano and Kojima. Introductions were made, compliments were paid, alcohol was imbibed, and dancing was done. It was a couple of hours before he spared a thought for how annoyed Kurosaki must be by now. The thought brought a smile to his face. Let him stew over Uryuu’s insolence. He deserved that much and more. In fact, perhaps it was time to track down that admirer from earlier and broaden his horizons on a brand new voyage. It wasn’t cheating if they weren’t dating.

Uryuu found the man by a whiff of his powerful cologne. He grinned when he saw Uryuu walk right up and start dancing.

Things got heated fast. Gay club culture was more assertive than most other types of clubs, and it didn’t take much for his partner to breach about five separate layers of personal space. Which was fine. Uryuu didn’t mind the hands in sensitive places or the chest-to-chest contact. He didn’t mind when another guy pressed in from behind to sandwich him between the two. He didn’t even mind when one of them began nuzzling his neck and the other playfully unsnapped a few buttons of his shirt to caress his clavicle. New experiences were precious things and he shouldn’t take them for granted or disregard them easily.

The only issue was a crushing guilt he refused to attribute to his borderline adultery. The sights and sounds and sensations that should have been turning him on were churning in his stomach like spoiled supper. The idea of Kurosaki’s imagined outrage at his daring endeavor was squeezing around his heart like a furious fist. He felt queasy and lightheaded. He needed to sit down, drink some water, and rethink things because maybe this wasn’t strictly wrong, but it certainly didn’t feel right.

The two men encasing him didn’t want to let him go, but Uryuu was swift and limber. He escaped, making his way to the bar and asking for ice water, which he took to a quieter area to sit and sip. Head swimming with second-guesses and mixed-drinks, he turned his phone back on and wasn’t surprised to note a couple of missed calls and several new messages. Uryuu only read the most recent one.

_Where are you_?

His thumbs automatically tapped out the name of the club and sent the text. Groaning at his convoluted feelings, he silently prayed Kurosaki had already gone to sleep and wouldn’t ask why he was out dancing instead of getting deliciously violated in his apartment. He breathed a sigh of relief when no response was forthcoming. Whether the artist was a positive or negative influence, Uryuu was sure his life would be less of a whirlwind without Kurosaki in it. Sometimes he longed for the boredom and loneliness he used to suffer, if only to be rid of the paralyzing confusion that replaced them.

Speaking of paralyzing, he didn’t see the harm in one more drink. He wasn’t driving home tonight and he didn’t have work tomorrow morning. Uryuu wasn’t the type to frequently indulge like this but every once in a while wouldn’t kill him.

A while later, he had finished the water and the fresh cocktail, and was in the process of ordering another when someone tapped him on the shoulder. The world tilted and blurred when he tried to turn. Grabbing the countertop to keep from pitching sideways, Uryuu gasped to see none other than Kurosaki standing beside him.

“K-Kuro—”

“Where are your glasses?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Are you wearing _makeup_ , Ishida?”

“Why aren’t you asleep!?”

Touching a paint-flecked hand to Uryuu’s cheek to brush his hair back and get a better look, Kurosaki ended the rapid-fire round of questions with, “It looks good on you.”

“Don’t,” Uryuu grunted, pushing his hand away. “Go home, Kurosaki.”

“And leave you defenseless in a place like this? How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“None of your business, _officer_. Why do you care?”

He started when Kurosaki suddenly grabbed the front of his shirt to jerk him forward and growl, “Because the last time you got this drunk you almost slept with a ‘prostitute’ in a cheap hotel! We both know you make bad decisions under the influence, so don’t pretend I have no reason to be worried.”

Well, he had a valid point. However, Uryuu was beyond fed up with being bossed around and he already had friends there to look out for him. He didn’t need Kurosaki yanking his leash, too.

“Let go of me! Who said I was drunk?”

Releasing Uryuu’s shirt, he remarked, “Your misspelled text told me.”

Ah, another valid point. Hundreds of messages exchanged between them and not a single typo until the last one. On some level, the fact that Kurosaki knew him well enough to realize what a warning sign it was both surprised and impressed him. Still, failing to properly spell the club’s name didn’t automatically mean he was sloshed. Even if he was, who elected Kurosaki to be his chaperone?

“Just leave. I don’t need a babysitter.” In response, Kurosaki simply stared. So, Uryuu vowed, “I’ll be good, if that makes you feel any better. No fake male escorts for me.”

He kept staring, looking Uryuu over like he could somehow read everything left unsaid from his body language alone. Perhaps he could. The harsh cast to Kurosaki’s eyes softened slightly and he appeared to be considering the appeal. Then he leaned in and sniffed Uryuu’s collar, expression instantly darkening at what he detected there.

“You want me to leave? I’ll go, but only if you come with me.”

“Why should I? You’re the one who—”

His sentence ended in a yelp as he was tugged from the barstool and dragged toward the rear exit. Of course, Uryuu put up a fight as best he could under the circumstances. Until Kurosaki paused on the fringe of the dance floor and gripped his shoulders to bring him in close, hissing a lethal secret into his ear.

“I know you were dancing with another guy, Ishida: I can smell his cologne.”

Mortification prickled across his skin. Uryuu let himself be shepherded along the edge of the dance floor and into an open hallway branching into bathrooms, storage, and a door leading to the alley outside. He found his backbone at the last minute, halting steps away from the exit. Kurosaki glared back at him but allowed the pause. With the music muffled by distance and the lights dimmed to a rouge glow, Uryuu didn’t have to yell to be heard or strain to see. This was a perfect chance to have the argument they had been avoiding.

“Why should I have to leave just because you want me to? If I danced with another man it’s only because you’ve been holding out on me. You haven’t been attending to my needs, Kurosaki! It’s your own fault I had to look elsewhere for stress relief.”

All the agitation left Kurosaki’s face and he went scarily still. He calmly replied, “If you were feeling that desperate, all you had to do was say so.”

He threw Uryuu against the wall, knocking loose a tacky framed poster and a fair bit of his remaining sense. Kurosaki kissed him fiercely. He resented how amazing it felt even as he relished it. Uryuu’s body reacted in the usual way, especially since Kurosaki started grinding against him and pushing his hands under clothing to smooth over flesh. Embarrassed and aroused, Uryuu struggled weakly and broke free of the kiss long enough to emphasize an important fact.

“We’re in public!”

Kurosaki didn’t care. He pinned Uryuu’s wrists to the wall beside his shoulders and attacked his mouth. Stepping in even closer, Kurosaki spread Uryuu’s knees wider to win more contact between shifting hips. The friction was delightful. Uryuu could mount no defenses against any of it. His head was spinning in a mostly pleasant way. Despite the inappropriate place and the infuriating dispute, part of him was just happy to be getting what he wanted.

When Kurosaki finally freed his arms, Uryuu didn’t use them to shove him away. He wound them securely around Kurosaki’s neck and kissed him harder. The signature fizzle of pleasure warned in the back of his mind. Uryuu’s short, strained moans matched the escalating pace unraveling between them. And Kurosaki was whispering in his ear, telling him to let go and have what he needed so much it almost drove him to cheat.

Wanting to see the face of his lover, Uryuu opened his eyes and saw his friends standing at the end of the hall instead. Asano, Kojima, and even Rose were leering with varying iterations on the same theme. Scandal, fascination, intrigue. Uryuu had created his very own disreputable circumstance right there in the club. He pushed Kurosaki away with an oath.

“ _Holy_ _shit_ ,” interjected Asano.

“My, my,” Rose chuckled.

“Okay, you can ask him for tips,” said Kojima, glowing cell phone forgotten in his lax grip.

Kurosaki glanced at their audience and back, asking, “You came here with Keigo and Mizuiro? Who’s the woman?”

Uryuu was too preoccupied with slowly dying of humiliation to answer. The blood rushed from his dick to his cheeks so fast he had to hold onto the wall behind just to remain upright. He was never going to live this one down. All he could do was pray his coworkers were mature enough not to spread this around the office.

“Let’s go,” he muttered to Kurosaki. “Take me home.”

It was his turn to drag the man down the hall toward the exit. Outside, the bustle of busy streets went unnoticed as they made it to the main road and flagged down a cab. Since Uryuu was still struggling to gather his senses, he relied on Kurosaki to state the destination.

“Where do you live?”

“What?” snapped Uryuu, momentarily baffled. “Why would you ask me that?”

“You told me to take you home,” Kurosaki replied, equally puzzled. His brow rose as he ventured, “Did you mean my place?”

Suddenly Uryuu had an entirely new reason to be embarrassed. Yes, he had been thinking of Kurosaki’s apartment as ‘home’ without realizing it. He didn’t even want to consider the implications of that subconscious assumption. Rather than confirm it with words, Uryuu gave a barely perceptible nod before turning toward the window. Kurosaki didn’t tease him for it. He gave the address to their driver and graciously remained silent for the rest of the trip.

They made it upstairs without incident. As always, being in this environment began to trigger certain thought processes that easily overrode his discomfiture. Within a few moments of walking into the living room, Uryuu was horny again. He was thinking of how close they had come to…well, _coming_ in the club and how he still very much wanted to finish what they’d started. Perhaps something along the lines of a kinky ‘punishment’ for being ‘naughty’?

Only Kurosaki wasn’t making the first move as he usually did. In fact, he wasn’t making any moves at all. He was taking off his jacket and stepping out of his shoes, going into the kitchen to pour two glasses of water and handing one of them to Uryuu. Then he went to sit on the couch and sighed as he sank onto it, gratefully sipping the cold liquid like it was a refreshing beer after a hard day’s work.

“Kurosaki, I—”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” he said without turning around. “When you’re sober.”

So, he was still angry about the dancing-with-other-men thing. Although it seemed an unfair overreaction, Uryuu couldn’t blame him for feeling jilted. Kurosaki didn’t know that it hadn’t gone any further than dancing. Maybe he was even under the impression that Uryuu had fucked someone else tonight. Given how awful he’d felt presuming Kuchiki had slept with him that time, he could imagine what Kurosaki was wrestling with. It couldn’t have been pleasant.

Uryuu went to perch beside him and set the glass of water on the coffee table so he wouldn’t spill it. He looked at Kurosaki, who was staring solely at the glass in his grip.

“I didn’t cheat. I’ve never cheated.” Loosing a long breath in the wake of this confession, Kurosaki still didn’t glance up. Uryuu whispered, “I thought about it, but I didn’t do it.”

“Do whatever you want, Ishida. I don’t own you. No one can. You’ve made that painfully clear.”

“You don’t understand,” he mourned, plucking his glasses off to rub hands over clenched eyes. Smeared makeup was the least of his concerns. “I was angry, thinking you were playing around with me even though I was the one who labeled this a ‘game’. I wanted to get back at you for it but I…I _couldn’t_. I didn’t mean to upset you and I don’t want anyone else! I am just such an idiot sometimes. I’m sorry.”

The silence stretched for an agonizing moment after his apology. Eventually, Kurosaki swallowed the last of his water and placed the empty glass on the table with a soft _clink_ piercing the frigid silence. Uryuu’s heart gave a nervous judder as brown eyes finally sought his.

“Did you mean what you said at the club? About me neglecting you?” Gazing at his lap in self-consciousness, Uryuu quietly hummed in acknowledgment. “You know I do that on purpose, right? Not to tease, but to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“Hurt me? What do you mean?”

With a wry laugh, Kurosaki explained, “I could happily fuck you five times a day, every single day if you let me. But as a guy you’re not exactly built for that level of activity, you know? I worry sometimes. I lose control and go harder than I should. And you never complain so I can’t always tell what’s ‘too far’ or ‘not enough’. Guess my plan kinda backfired, though.”

It was true Uryuu woke up the next day a little on the sore side sometimes. Yet, he realized going into this that would happen and never thought much of it. Realizing Kurosaki had been looking out for him the whole time was both endearing and irritating. And that was a sentiment strangely capable of describing their entire relationship.

“I would tell you if it’s too much. I’m not as meek as you seem to think. Just because I let you…do all sorts of things to me doesn’t mean I wouldn’t speak up if I didn’t like it.”

Affection warmed Kurosaki’s features for just an instant. He said, “I, of all people, know you’re not meek but I also know you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“Still, I—”

“Hey, we can talk about this more tomorrow, all right? For now, let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed. Come on.”

Gently taking Uryuu’s hand, he led the way to the bathroom and started the shower for him. While the water was warming, he got out a bottle of baby oil and plucked a few cotton balls from a bag. Kurosaki dipped one into the other and instructed him to close his eyes so the makeup could be blotted away.

“Now I have to ask: why do you know the best way to remove mascara?”

The careful dabbing didn’t stop as he quietly replied, “It’s just another type of paint and oil happens to be the perfect solvent for this one. Or did you forget what I do for a living?”

So, it didn’t have anything to do with his ex-girlfriend Inoue Orihime? Uryuu wanted to know but he wasn’t bold enough to ask. It was too easy to picture them doing this together instead. As sweet, intelligent, and attractive as she was, he couldn’t figure out why Kurosaki would have chosen mere friendship in place of romance and potentially marriage. Maybe she wanted kids and he didn’t? The laid-back artist seemed like he would make a decent enough father. Unlike Uryuu, who couldn’t get his own life together much less guide anyone else’s.

“Why did you break up with Inoue-san?”

It was out of his mouth before he realized what he’d said. The dabbing stopped and Uryuu cracked his eyes open to catch the shock portrayed on Kurosaki’s face. He covered it quickly, tossing blackened cotton balls into the little trash can in the corner.

“The shower should be ready now. Be sure to drink some water before you fall asleep or you’ll regret it in the morning.” Completely unsatisfied with that obvious evasion, Uryuu caught his sleeve before he could flee the bathroom. Kurosaki tugged free and grumbled without turning around, “If you’re that curious, ask her. I hear you two are close friends now.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Uryuu to be stunned and confused on his own. Must’ve been a touchy subject. Which was odd, considering how they were on such good terms. Shaking it off, he obligingly cleansed himself of sweat earned from hours of dancing. He rocked the towel-around-waist look ten minutes later and went into Kurosaki’s bedroom. A folded change of clothes was resting on the edge of the bed but his host was nowhere in sight. Ignoring them for the moment, Uryuu wandered back into the living room.

Kurosaki was lying on the couch with a pillow under his head and a blanket up to his chest.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Uryuu scoffed when his minor outburst was ignored. “I’m not sleeping in your bed without you, Kurosaki, so you might as well stop being melodramatic.”

No response. Padding around to kneel between the sofa and the table, Uryuu gazed at his ‘sleeping’ face and silently sighed. He really was far too handsome. Combing light fingers through orange fringe, he couldn’t help leaning forward to press a kiss against his temple. Then his cheek, and down to his jaw. Unsurprisingly, Kurosaki was watching him when he pulled away. He eased forward to kiss Uryuu properly on the mouth. A few seconds was all it took to elevate their heart rates and communicate their interest.

“I won’t take advantage of you, Ishida,” he announced as they broke for air.

“How pointlessly gallant.”

“Don’t ask me to fuck you.”

“Who said anything about asking?”

Uryuu breached the thin blanket and the waistband of Kurosaki’s lounge pants to make him jump from unexpected pleasure.

“Cheater.”

“Never,” he reminded.

Kissing Kurosaki again, he added a tantalizing slip of tongue into the mix. This seduction thing was tricky. Uryuu inwardly marveled over the fact that he’d never had to do it before. Kurosaki was always the aggressor, always the leader when it came to almost every aspect of their interactions. It was Uryuu’s turn to make some choices for a change. Or so he thought until Kurosaki pushed him back and sat up.

“I won’t fuck you tonight,” was the stubborn repetition, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t fuck me.”

That threw Uryuu for a loop. “What?”

“Do you want to? You’ve never mentioned it before. I just assumed you had no interest in topping.”

Oh, he was saying… _Oh_! Uryuu blinked rapidly a few times, integrating this brand new possibility. It wasn’t that he ‘had no interest’. Rather, he figured it wasn’t on the metaphorical menu. Kurosaki didn’t really seem the type to appreciate role-reversal.

“Yes,” he declared. “Yes, I definitely want to. Can we?”

Kurosaki’s grin was so saturated with gratuitous promise that it generated a heated shiver across Uryuu’s skin.

“Wait for me in the bedroom.”

That was how Uryuu ended up sitting in the middle of the bed naked and half-hard from anticipation while Kurosaki spent a handful of minutes alone in the restroom. It wasn’t like he didn’t know what was going on in there. Uryuu had done it enough times to picture with crystal-clarity how the artist’s skilled fingers were preparing him for what they were about to do. Maybe next time he could do it for Kurosaki. Next time? Oh, yes, there had to be a next time or he would spontaneously implode from the injustice of it all. Uryuu hoped his lover knew this would establish a precedent of taking turns. There was no going back to monochrome after glimpsing a glorious rainbow.

He didn’t realize his hand was sinking lower to touch himself until a grip at his wrist stopped him. Kurosaki braced above and kissed him wildly. Apparently Uryuu wasn’t the only one getting worked up by his own imagination. Fingers curled around his cock, slick and warm, to give it a couple of pumps. Then he was being guided inside and—

“Kurosaki, wait, _wait_!” he cried as hot liquid pleasure poured straight into his nervous system. “ _Gods,_ that feels…”

“I know. This is what it’s like every time you let me do this to you. Is it good, Ishida?”

It was rhetorical, had to be rhetorical because there was no way Uryuu was answering. Perhaps he could calmly compare the two experiences later and decide which was superior to the other, if at all, but for now he was nearly bursting with novel stimuli. An unbiased evaluation would have to wait.

Unlike Kurosaki, who decided he had waited long enough and started to move. Uryuu’s hands went to his hips on instinct, even if he had no real influence on how they moved. He forced his eyes open to find Kurosaki staring down at him with limitless passion in his gaze. As usual, he was working so hard to make sure Uryuu enjoyed it. Always putting his pleasure first. Considering the switch-up, it seemed right to ensure Kurosaki’s pleasure for once.

“Tell me.” He panted with the effort to stay clear-headed. “Tell me what to do, Kurosaki.”

The full meaning did not escape him. An appreciative smirk tugged at his mouth. He bent forward to kiss the side of Uryuu’s neck as he offered a few helpful hints.

“In a minute, you’re gonna flip us over, push my knees up, and bear down until you feel me tighten around you. Once you find that spot, don’t let up.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Kurosaki laughed. “Trickier than it sounds, though.”

Well, it wasn’t as if Uryuu couldn’t handle a challenge. After about a minute, he did exactly as he’d been told. It took a few tries to get the best angle, but when he did Kurosaki _moaned_ like he never had before. The abrupt increase in pressure almost shoved Uryuu over the edge but he grit his teeth and rode it out with measured breaths and bottomless willpower. Kurosaki rewarded him by making the most gorgeous expressions.

“ _That’s_ what it’s like every time you do this to me,” shared Uryuu. “Is it good?”

His answer was in the form of a sloppy, desperate kiss. A squeeze of his ass urged Uryuu faster when words were out of reach. Faster was about a hundred times more intense and he wasn’t sure he could hold out as long as Kurosaki generally did. Not for his first time at this version of events, anyway. As though reading Uryuu’s thoughts, one of his hands was led to Kurosaki’s erection. His head fell back on a gasp when Uryuu began stroking.

It wasn’t perfect. He was always impressed when Kurosaki could do this in flawless synchrony but Uryuu was nowhere near that proficient. The amateur efforts seemed to go unnoticed, however, if Kurosaki’s bite-reddened lip and arching spine were any indication. Uryuu gaped in awe as the artist’s voice broke on a startled groan. Kurosaki’s body locked up on his orgasm, yanking Uryuu right alongside him whether he was ready for it or not.

Energy utterly depleted, he drooped to lie against Kurosaki’s chest, where he pressed light kisses in random places. He knew he should move, or at least pull out, but Uryuu found the idea innately repugnant when all he wanted to do was snuggle until he passed out. Which would be very soon, indeed.

Kurosaki was a little closer to sanity. He readjusted and rotated them into something more comfortable, even maintaining the foresight to grab a tissue or two so they wouldn’t wake up sticky. Uryuu murmured something in the form of a thank-you as the blanket was tugged from under them to drape above instead. If he purposely scooted closer to Kurosaki for the sake of remaining in contact, neither of them made a point to mention it. They were drifting off within seconds.

Kurosaki faintly whispered, “Sleep well, Uryuu.”

He already was.


	6. Chapter 6

Uryuu sat up and cradled his head with a whispered curse. The room was far too bright and cheerful for the amount of pain he was in. Approaching footsteps forced him to risk a glance at his surroundings. Kurosaki stood beside the bed, holding two white capsules and a glass of water—possibly the same one he had offered last night. It was so stereotypically ‘morning after’ that Uryuu almost smiled.

“Told you to drink some water last night,” Kurosaki bluntly accused, though not without pity. “That headache is your own fault. Luckily for you, I’m not a sadist. Here, swallow these. Coffee?”

“Yes.”

“Kitchen.”

With that concise exchange, he left to start brewing so Uryuu could get dressed in solitude. The change of clothes from last night was on top of the dresser and his own outfit from the club was draped on a couple of hangers hooked at the corner of an ajar drawer. Oh, Kurosaki was very good at this ‘morning after’ business indeed. The only thing missing was a healthy breakfast…that Uryuu probably couldn’t have eaten anyway so it was just as well.

As he donned his own clothes, he mused at how different things felt between them. Uryuu had never stayed the night before. They had also never done the domestic routine of waking in each other’s arms and kissing each other good morning. Never sipped coffee and discussed their plans for the day. Never opened up about hopes and dreams and expectations while reveling in the full light of the sun. Theirs were strictly nightly adventures. None of this was part of the arrangement.

Maybe it should’ve been.

Uryuu sort of liked the idea of belonging here whenever he wanted, as opposed to strictly when scheduled. Kurosaki trusting him to roam his bedroom unsupervised was weirdly satisfying. He poked around with renewed curiosity, inspecting this or that like he hadn’t been able to before. Pausing at the closet, left partially open, he hesitated for just a moment. Then he pulled it open wider. Inside were the usual items, primarily clothing and some storage boxes tucked underneath. Sitting front and center in plain view was a small collection of vertically stacked paintings. Uryuu flicked idly through them in mild interest.

His breath eased out in a stunned exhale as one in particular caught his eye. It was _him_. The portrait of Uryuu that Kuchiki had mentioned and Kurosaki had denied. There it was in bold colors and stark contrasts. It wasn’t a normal portrait meant to portray the subject as realistically as possible, like a photograph. It was cast in the subjective style of impressionism, drenched with a personal passion Uryuu had only recently begun to understand in the artist.

It was a masterpiece. It had a welcoming warmth to it, much like Kurosaki’s own personality. He had captured Uryuu flawlessly, right down to the way his hair parted and fell a little bit over his face most of the time. The hue of his irises was spot-on, every detail of his glasses and the exact curvature of lips and nose. There was an undertone of dignity and intelligence in his bearing, humor in the tilt of his mouth, and compassion in the shine of his eyes. Only someone who had spent a great deal of time staring at his subject could render something like this. And it had been done entirely from memory.

It filled Uryuu with all manner of strange emotions: awe, pride, self-consciousness, elation, confusion, longing. Before he could even begin to process them all, Kurosaki returned. He stood in the doorway holding a steaming mug and wearing a deliberately blank expression. Crossing the room, he picked the painting from Uryuu’s hands to replace amongst its peers and shut the closet.

Uryuu started to speak—whether accusation or apology, he wasn’t sure—but Kurosaki pushed the mug into his hands and strode right back out of the room. He followed after a moment’s conflicted reflection.

“Kurosaki, that pai—”

“I have a lot of work to get done this morning, Ishida,” he distractedly declared, rifling through some paintbrushes. “Can we talk later?”

“…All right.”

He watched Kurosaki organize and set up a workspace around his easel. When he grabbed his phone to start making calls, Uryuu finally took the hint and headed for the door. Realizing he was still holding the coffee mug, he detoured to the kitchen to pour and rinse it out. The aromatic amber liquid disappearing down the drain seemed a smidge too symbolic for his liking.

Uryuu felt very silly. Had he imagined their unprecedented intimacy last night? Why had he woken up swarming with warm-fuzzies when he had just been complaining to Asano and Kojima about his overbearing not-boyfriend last night? Now he was upset because Kurosaki was keeping the emotional distance Uryuu had demanded from the start, even if his heartfelt portrait disputed the brusque insinuations.

Bracing against the edge of the sink, Uryuu let his head dip forward and his eyes fall shut as he sighed at himself. One of these days he was going to figure out what he really wanted. Until then, the safe bet was to keep playing the part. Cool and composed. Unattached and unaffected. Then maybe that hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach would disappear.

“You okay?”

Uryuu started, straightening to see Kurosaki regarding him with vague disquiet.

“Fine,” he lied and went to walk past him to the front door. He didn’t quite make it through.

“Ishida, wait.”

Kurosaki tugged him into an embrace and Uryuu allowed it. He kissed back when lips grazed his—this ritual had become habitual from that very first time—but he was the one to withdraw a handful of seconds later. Uryuu muttered a terse phrase of farewell and exited without a backward glance.

Wednesday at the office was almost Armageddon.

It had begun with a merger gone sour over poor contract phrasing. Uryuu had walked in to a raging shit-storm of panic that morning and spent the better part of it smoothing ruffled feathers and stroking egos just to get it sorted. By the time everything started to settle down, Ryuuken strolled in unannounced to further torment his frazzled son. It wasn’t even a work-related issue!

“Why am I hearing that your date with Arisawa-san went over well, yet you haven’t tried to see her again?”

“Probably because it was a stupid idea from the start,” Uryuu snapped, short-tempered in light of recent events. “I wasn’t interested in going on a blind date and neither was she. I don’t need you trying to pair me off like another one of your business partnerships!”

“Is that so? At least my partnerships last more than a few weeks. Did you think I wouldn’t hear of this morning’s fiasco? It seems your leadership skills need work. Perhaps I promoted you too soon.”

Whatever sharp retort Uryuu wanted to snarl was swallowed. He recognized that he was on a razor-thin edge. His father was not prone to making idle threats; one word from him and Uryuu could’ve been demoted within the hour. Never mind the fact that ‘this morning’s fiasco’ was due to an oversight made by one of the lawyers Ryuuken had hired long before he’d let his son take over the branch.

He took a breath. Let it out.

“I apologize for my hostility. It wasn’t my intent to breed contention between us.” The angry angle of Ryuuken’s furrowed brow eased incrementally. Uryuu went on to say, “The truth…the truth is I have already been seeing someone for several months now. A creative, wildly talented redhead who drives me half-crazy in all the best ways.”

He really, _really_ should have kept his mouth shut. What in the world possessed him to talk about that idiotic artist to his father, of all people? The mere mention piqued Ryuuken’s interest. To make matters worse, he knew when Uryuu lied and when he didn’t, so everything that was said invariably rang as one hundred percent genuine. Because it was.

“Oh? If that was the case, why haven’t you mentioned this before?”

Because Kurosaki was a man, albeit a glorious specimen any parent would’ve been proud to let their daughter marry. Someone who regularly made him feel amazing in a dozen different ways. The person who had single-handedly changed him the most in all his twenty-whatever years of life. But he couldn’t say that. Of course he couldn’t say that. So, Uryuu reverted to half-truths as he began to sweat bullets and stave off a brand of panic infinitely more crippling than the type he had placated mere hours earlier.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t approve of their background or career choice.”

“What is her name?” Right. _Her_ name. He should have seen that coming. “Tell me her name, Uryuu.”

Crumbling under the pressure, he blurted, “Inoue Orihime,” and mentally slapped himself.

The damage was already done. Ryuuken jotted the name down in a pocket notebook that never left his person, because he was a little old-fashioned like that. He fixed Uryuu with a stern look just for the hell of it.

“I will look into this Inoue-san for myself and decide whether she could be an acceptable bride.”

Uryuu clenched his jaw to keep from spouting any more incriminating comments. He watched his father-slash-boss stand and sweep from his office as though he were never there. Precisely three minutes later, Uryuu yanked his phone from a pocket and texted Inoue to request a lunch meeting to discuss a very serious issue. She replied with a time and place, promising to help in any way she could. He already felt bad about putting her into an unpleasant position thanks to his cowardice.

His secretary didn’t give him long to brood over it. Asano slipped in and shut the door behind him, automatically taking the seat across from Uryuu’s desk.

“How’d it go? Did your dad give you a verbal lashing?”

“As usual. But not about the merger. He’s been trying to set me up with a woman.”

“Ah, that old ruse. You know, my parents went through that phase, too. Fortunately, they came to the conclusion that I’m too much of a loser to get a real woman.”

Asano snickered but Uryuu didn’t think it was the slightest bit funny.

“You haven’t come out to them yet?”

“Hell no! It would break my mom’s heart and my dad would probably punch me on principle. My sister knows but she likes to pretend she doesn’t. According to her, Mizuiro is just my best friend.”

“What about Kojima’s family?”

“It’s just him and his mom. She knew before he did, and she’s more or less okay with it. Doesn’t like me much, though. I’ll make her come around eventually.” Beaming with a self-assurance only he could project, Asano’s optimism had Uryuu mirroring the expression. “Hah! See, I knew you could smile like the rest of us. But seriously, if your dad doesn’t approve, he’s nuts. I’ve never had a better boss.”

“Thank you,” he said and meant it.

“I’m not the only one who thinks so, either. Everyone loves working for you because we know you’re not afraid to work twice as hard to get shit done. Most people in your position get lazy and selfish; it’s always refreshing to have a supervisor who actually cares. Plus, we’re all getting bonuses because your department is exceeding quarterly projections left and right.”

“I really couldn’t accomplish any of it without such a great team.”

“And that’s why we love ya,” Asano asserted with a wink. “Speaking of love, how’s Ichigo?”

“What?”

“What? Ha ha, I don’t know what I’m saying! Anyway, tell him I say ‘hello’. I gotta get back to work. Don’t forget about movie night at our place this weekend! Mizuiro is making his famous curry rice, so come hungry.”

He hopped up from the chair and was out of the room before Uryuu could speak another word.

The appeal had been drafted right down to the word by lunchtime. Uryuu was silently practicing his monologue as he walked out to the patio area of the cafe. The sun shone strongly but a collection of tawny umbrellas shaded their individual aluminum tables spread across the broad square of poured concrete. Several of the tables were occupied by dining patrons, including one highlighted by brightly colored hair.

Oh, look, it was Kurosaki.

He nearly tripped over a divot in the flooring. Kurosaki!? What was he doing there? Spotting him halted near a couple of tables, Inoue got up to usher him to theirs, sprinkling bubbly greetings and well-wishes as they went. She seated him between her and Kurosaki, cool as a cucumber.

“Hey,” said the apathetic artist. He may as well have been smoking and wearing a leather jacket plus stylish sunglasses.

Uryuu turned to Inoue. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I wasn’t expecting him to be here.”

“Oh, we already had plans for lunch before you messaged me,” she apologized with her tone and expression. “I hope you don’t mind. I just assumed it would be all right since you two are da—”

“ **We’re not dating** ,” they decreed in unison.

Kurosaki sipped his lemon water from a green bendy straw and aimed his gaze somewhere across the street. Inoue ducked her head and giggled nervously to herself.

“Of course. I remember you explaining that, Ishida-kun. I guess I just don’t understand it…”

“Makes two of us,” muttered Kurosaki. He valiantly ignored Uryuu’s glare.

“In that case, it sounds like I’m the one intruding. Perhaps we can reschedule?”

“No, no, you aren’t intruding at all! Please stay. What did you want to talk about?”

Once again, he found himself roped into a tense situation. He wasn’t eager for Kurosaki to hear about his familial problems beyond what was mentioned at their very first meeting in the hotel room, but it would’ve been compounding cowardice to back out now. There really was no choice. Therefore, Uryuu explained in as few details as possible exactly how screwed he was after fibbing to his father. A thoughtful hush draped the trio in the wake of his mini-drama monologue.

Crushing the silence at last, Kurosaki requested, “Go back to the part where you said I’m creative and talented?”

“Will you take this seriously? Have I not made it clear that my job is on the line?”

“What are you proposing we do?” Inoue prompted.

“He wants you to be his fake girlfriend, Orihime.”

“Oh. Um…”

“Most likely for a single meeting,” attenuated Uryuu. “I fully intend to tell Ryuuken the truth soon. I just need time to solidify my position first. My success at work speaks for itself and having a few more board members on my side will invalidate any attempts to have me removed without good reason. There is an important project coming to a close in a few weeks that will make a huge difference for me.”

“Do you really think your own father would have you fired because you’re gay?”

“Trust me, he would.”

Inoue backed him up by saying, “Tatsuki-chan and I already went over all that with him.”

“By the way, how are things between Arisawa-san and her boyfriend?”

“Better. Her mom still isn’t happy about it but she finally stopped nagging Tatsuki-chan to date more ‘upstanding young men’.”

“Since when is Chad not ‘upstanding’ enough?” crowed Kurosaki, “He’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met!”

“Ishida-kun is nice, too. Although I doubt that was why Tatsuki-chan’s mom wanted them to go out.”

“You went out with Tatsuki?”

“It was just one date. Also my father’s fault.”

“Yeah, but you could’ve mentioned it, Ishida.”

“And said what, Kurosaki? ‘I’m too chicken to come out to my homophobic father, so I’ll be going on a pointless blind date with a woman’? I didn’t know she was a friend of yours. Are there any women in this city you haven’t been on close terms with?”

“Just your mom. Oh, wait…”

“Ichigo!”

Rather than apologize as he knew he should, the rogue folded his arms and turned away from them both with a scowl. Uryuu didn’t even bother glaring this time. He concentrated only on Inoue.

“What do you think? Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a little while?”

“If that’s what you need, I’m happy to help.”

Uryuu released a relieved exhale. “Thank you, Inoue-san. I can’t express how much I appreciate this.”

“Tch.”

“Did you have something to add, Kurosaki?”

“You could say that.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

“Are you? Then maybe I should point out that no one in their right mind would believe you two are a couple. Nobody acts that formal with each other after dating for months. You would have to use given names and drop the honorifics. Sit closer. Stop using polite speech. Hold hands and maybe touch her hair or something.”

“He has a point,” agreed Inoue.

Uryuu lamented, “He usually does.”

While Kurosaki was smugly smirking to himself for being right, Uryuu and Inoue shifted their seats closer to clasp hands over the table. It didn’t feel entirely _un_ natural.

“This is nice…Uryuu-kun. Oops, I forgot about the honorific!”

“That’s okay, Orihime-chan. We can be the kind of couple who keeps the honorifics until we’re married.”

That won a giddy giggle from her and Uryuu smiled at how easy-going she was. If he had to pick anyone in Japan to be fake-dating, it would be her.

“You two are disgustingly cute together. But you know, the real test is PDA. A kiss would really sell it. Why don’t you practice?”

“Kurosaki, you—”

“No, he’s not wrong. If we want to do this right and make your father really believe it, we should be able to do at least that much.”

“Are you sure? That might be going too far.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable!” she exclaimed with waving hands. “If it would be too unpleasant, we can forget all about it. No problem!”

“Not at all! I would be honored to kiss someone as kind and beautiful as you, Orihime-chan.”

“You’re so sweet, Uryuu-kun, but I would feel awful forcing you into anything like that.”

From the periphery, Kurosaki rolled his eyes. “Shut up and make out already.”

They locked eyes. A tiny nod from Uryuu and Inoue was leaning in, he was leaning in, and their faces were so close together. He squeezed his eyes shut at the last second. Their mouths met in a tender peck. They separated, smiling to themselves in shared victory. Uryuu had kissed a girl and it hadn’t been terrible!

“Your lips are so soft,” she marveled. “What brand of lip balm do you use?”

“I don’t really.”

“Uwah, I wish I had your skin type!”

“What are you saying? Your skin is amazing.”

“All right, calm down,” interjected Mr. Spoilsport. “You two can share beauty tips later, but we need to fix this right now. That wasn’t a kiss, Ishida. Not by a long shot. Try again.”

“Who elected you our kissing coach?”

“I hate to say it, Uryuu-kun, but…”

He sighed. It was as he feared: he had to kiss Inoue like he meant it or there was no point to any of this. Thinking back to when Uryuu had briefly thought he might have to kiss Arisawa intently, he decided there was no other option. He would have to imagine Inoue was Kurosaki. It wasn’t fair to her, but neither was the entire situation. Uryuu didn’t feel good about it, but desperate times…

Tucking a hand into her luscious auburn hair, he kissed her with something resembling desire. It was awkward at first, but inspiration came in the memories of kissing Kurosaki when they were in that gentle, indolent phase of the night after the passion had dimmed to make room for another emotion entirely. It was meaningful and lingering. The soft sounds of their mouths parting and rejoining told him he was doing it right.

When they separated, Uryuu’s eyes instinctively sought the genuine object of his thoughts. He was staring glossy-eyed and open-mouthed. Blinking and clearing his throat, Kurosaki characteristically said the first thing that came to mind.

“That was hot—Uh, I mean it was pretty good, I guess.”

“You’re a great kisser,” Inoue told him with a hint of breathlessness. “We should have no problem convincing your dad!”

“Do you really think so?”

Relief superseded all other emotions. With the aid of his friends, he had bought himself some time. Ryuuken would still have to hear the truth and Uryuu would have to tell him, but he was saved from that horror for now. He pushed his glasses to rest atop his head and rubbed hands over his face. The morning’s stressful events were finally easing from the forefront. His life didn’t seem quite so dire anymore.

The tap of footsteps, swish of an apron, and rattle of plates drew him back to the present. Their server was placing delicious-looking dishes in front of them with a friendly smile and a benevolent phrase. Uryuu stared down at the salmon that would surely have been one of his top three picks on the menu and frowned. Looking to Kurosaki, the man shrugged at his perplexed expression.

“Orihime said you’d be late so I ordered for you.”

“We can get you something else if you don’t want that,” she kindly offered.

“No, this is…perfect, actually. Thank you.”

They dug into their meals without further comment. Uryuu tried not to dwell on the novelty of someone knowing him well enough to guess his food preferences. No, it wasn’t even a guess. Now that he thought about it, he had mentioned in passing to Kurosaki once upon a time that he loved fish but could never cook it quite as well as a restaurant’s chef. To think he had not only been listening but had remembered it to this day…An already heavy sense of gratitude grew inside him.

The rest of lunch passed as normally as could be expected under the circumstances. They chatted amiably, finished their meals, and paid separately. Inoue left first, stating that she had to get back to work. Uryuu thanked her again with a hug and a kiss to the cheek that made her laugh in surprised delight. She promised to stand in as his girlfriend whenever he needed her. The two of them watched her go, riding out the uncertain hush left in her wake.

Kurosaki shattered it with, “Did you imagine me when you kissed her?”

“What do you think?”

A Cheshire grin bloomed across his face. He stood and gestured for Uryuu to follow.

“I think we should get out of here before I molest you in public again.”

“I have to get back to work,” he complained even as he rose to leave with Kurosaki. “Can’t you contain yourself until Friday?”

“Oh, I have something special planned for Friday. But for now, this will have to tide me over.”

In a vacant walkway between the building and the parking lot, he pulled Uryuu into a serious kiss whether he was ready for it or not. Based on what he felt with Kurosaki, the kiss with Inoue couldn’t even qualify. Nothing against the buxom young woman, but she didn’t exactly do it for him. On the other hand, there was nothing Kurosaki didn’t set alight on contact. He was the spark to Uryuu’s brushfire. One touch had him wishing he owned a car so they didn’t have to stop with just making out.

It was Kurosaki’s call to quit while they could. Tearing their mouths apart seemed to be the limit of his self-control, as he had yet to let go of Uryuu entirely. He loved the way the artist held onto him like waiting a couple of days was nigh intolerable. It reminded him of Kurosaki’s patent possessiveness, prompting an important question.

“Are you really okay with mine and Inoue-san’s arrangement?”

The smile was back, warmed with an added dash of affection. “Yeah, it’s fine with me. I know you don’t have those kinds of feelings for her.”

“My natural immunity to beautiful women finally comes in handy.”

“To their collective chagrin.”

“Shut up,” Uryuu playfully dismissed, finally pushing Kurosaki’s hands from his body. “I’m also immune to your compliments, remember?”

“Doesn’t hurt to remind you how sexy you are, does it?”

“Doesn’t help, either. See you Friday.”

He started to turn and make the brief trek back to the office but Kurosaki grabbed him for one last kiss. Uryuu did his best not to smile around it. He failed.


	7. Chapter 7

The door slams and Uryuu barely has time to take a breath before he is pinned against it. Kurosaki ruthlessly kisses him, tongue sweeping possessively inside without preamble. Uryuu tries to push him away, to get a word of complaint out before it’s too late. But of course it’s already too late. The moment he walks into this apartment, he automatically becomes Kurosaki’s plaything.

His glasses are removed, tie ripped away, shirt tugged off, belt yanked out, pants and underwear shoved down. Uryuu is utterly exposed in seconds. He is embarrassingly half-hard from the attentions of Kurosaki’s mouth alone. A warm palm closes around him and roughly strokes him to full-staff. Right about the time Uryuu starts moaning into the kiss, Kurosaki breaks it. He steps back and looks Uryuu up and down, admiring his handiwork.

“I think we just broke a record, Ishida,” he lecherously smirks. Uryuu averts his gaze on a small frown. “You were thinking about me earlier, weren’t you?”

“Of course not! I have much better things to do on company time than squander it thinking of someone like you.”

The snarky attitude gets him shoved over the back of the couch with a grip at the base of his neck to keep him there. Kurosaki rubs firmly over his ass before smacking it once, lightly. Twice, harder. Thrice, stinging. Uryuu grits his teeth and takes the mild punishment as he knows he must. It will only be worse if he objects now. The generous jolt of lust it sends spiraling through his body helps, too.

“That was for lying to me,” growls Kurosaki. “Tell me the truth: were you sitting in that fancy, top-floor office in your daddy’s company fantasizing about me fucking your brains out when you should’ve been dutifully managing all those employees of yours?”

He starts to deny it again but fingers slide south to tickle his balls in subtle warning. His breath hitches with pleasure and foreboding in equal measure.

“…Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I was fantasizing about you in my office!”

The pressure at his neck instantly recedes. Kurosaki pulls him up and hugs Uryuu against his chest, kissing a sloppy line up the side of his throat to nip at his ear. Acrylic-spattered fingers go back to squeezing his cock. Biting his lip to hide how close he is, Uryuu shuts his eyes and debates letting himself come like this. He needs release, _desperately_ , after several days anticipating it. Daydreaming about going to this apartment straight from a stressful day at work. Thinking about the things Kurosaki will do to him.

Yet, if he takes his pleasure without asking permission first…

Kurosaki will punish him. Worse than before— _much_ worse—and he may even refuse to see Uryuu again for a while. Kurosaki might strap him down and twist a thick vibrator into him, then sit back and watch while Uryuu squirms and begs to come for minutes on end. Kurosaki could spank him until his cheeks flame and make Uryuu suck him off over and over until his jaw aches and his tongue feels raw. Or Kurosaki might just fuck him once and send him home sore with the instruction not to touch himself for the next week.

And Uryuu would allow every bit of it because that’s how much he needs the sexual sanctuary Kurosaki offers.

They aren’t boyfriends, haven’t declared their undying love, and don’t do much together beyond this but as of today, Uryuu is starting to think that has to change. Yesterday, when he was feeling extra stressed in a meeting at work, a single message from Kurosaki changed his entire outlook and made everything that much easier to deal with. He doesn’t just look forward to the sex anymore. Now he enjoys the ‘after’ almost as much as the ‘before’ and ‘during’. Thinking this is purely physical is insufficient. Kurosaki is his close friend, at the very least. How else could Uryuu trust him this much?

“Do you want to come, Ishida?”

“Yes…”

“I want to let you,” he sultrily says, turning Uryuu around to face him and sinking to his knees. “I can tell how much you need it. Will you do something for me first?”

A lick to his erection inspires him to gasp, “ _Name_ _it_.”

“Say you’ll try something new for me tonight?”

On the surface, that seems like a benign request but he knows Kurosaki better than that. Not to mention the fiend just told him two days ago that he had something special planned. Still, he also knows better than to argue now and pay for it later. Whatever it is, Uryuu will probably end up loving it anyway. The artist is usually adept at guessing what he will and won’t go for.

“I’ll try it, Kurosaki. Just…stop teasing!”

He doesn’t seek retribution for the back-talk since he got what he wanted. Neither does he do as Uryuu asked and stop teasing. On the contrary, Kurosaki uses his hands and mouth to work him up until he can only remain standing by holding on to the back of the couch. Only once Uryuu starts bucking between his lips does he take the hint and suck him seriously. Seconds pass like eons in the heightened state of arousal as his orgasm claims him at last.

A dual rush of gratitude and pleasure makes him that much more pliant as Kurosaki leads him down the hall to his bedroom. Once there, he balks at the sight of vivid red ropes hanging above the bed from a sturdy-looking trio of hooks. When did he have those installed? They have done light bondage before, but nothing that would justify that much rope. Uryuu turns to the man, slowly shedding his clothes, and objects without words.

“It’s a new level, but we’ll go slow and you’ll love it. I’ve been thinking about trying this for a while.”

Uryuu takes a breath, intending to argue as usual, but he stops himself and says instead, “Okay. I’m game.”

“Really?”

Shocked but happy, Kurosaki might not be so eager about it if he knew the reason for this ready acquiescence. Uryuu is tired of fighting. Over the past five months, he has learned that most of his reservations are unfounded. Most of the things he was taught were taboo have become the norm. Uryuu has learned not to be ashamed of his darker desires for the first time in his life and he doesn’t want to go back to prolonging the inevitable. As crazy as Kurosaki seems sometimes, he is certainly trustworthy. If it is with him, Uryuu can try anything once.

Stepping close to steal a kiss, he says, “What are you waiting for, Kurosaki? A signed waiver of consent?”

His eyes light up like fireworks and he kisses Uryuu with fresh ardor.

They start slow, as promised. Shibari is not something he ever imagined practicing, much less having it practiced on him, but Kurosaki totally seems the type. He takes his time and carefully wraps Uryuu into a deliberate conformation suspended above the bed. The lines of pressure beneath taut fabric add up to create a very different sensation than anything Uryuu could have anticipated. At first, he isn’t sure he likes it but as more ropes are added and more control is taken away, he finds that his mind goes blissfully blank. All his worries and anxiety fall away, replaced with a mental tranquility enhanced by mild pleasure.

Kurosaki doesn’t speak a word throughout the process. His expression is one of utmost concentration and reverie combined. Once Uryuu is bound from throat to ankles, he pauses to check in with a kiss and a questioning look. His nod gives Kurosaki the green light for whatever comes next.

The first touch to skin leaves Uryuu breathless. It is steadily dawning on him that he is not only utterly at Kurosaki’s mercy, but that this is the entire purpose of the exercise. Bound as he is, the tiniest movement is now difficult. With his arms tied together above his head, one of his legs held splayed out, the other bent near his side, and his ass pointed toward the ceiling there is nothing he can do to oppose anything his captor may choose to do to him. Which turns out to be lots of tongue-work around all the spots that he knows drive Uryuu positively mad with need.

Although Kurosaki doesn’t go anywhere near his cock, he is soon tensing in imminent release. He whispers a warning in a low call of his name.

The man stops what he is doing and moves to face Uryuu. He administers a tender kiss, then a blindfold and gag made of the same soft material as the binds. They have never done this before, either. It provides yet another level of vulnerability that sets his mind spinning in the most delicious way. Kurosaki settles behind, between his forcibly spread legs, and uses that deft tongue in a way that quickly has Uryuu moaning into the gag on his second orgasm of the night. He feels the drag of material tighten and flex around his muscles as he squirms in the tailor-made cage and another facet of his higher brain functions shuts off.

He stays hard, so turned-on by the idea of what Kurosaki will do next that he can’t possibly wind down. Of course, his artist is not one to rush these things. Uryuu attempts to buck against the fingers easing him open but the movement is subdued by taught binding. There is no way to communicate how much he wants Kurosaki to just push inside and fuck any remaining sense right out of him. Biting at the gag in agitation, Uryuu gasps when his fidgeting earns a light smack to his inner thigh.

It only encourages him to wriggle more in the hopes that Kurosaki will do it again. He does, as well as pressing his teeth into the tender flesh of a bare cheek. Uryuu loves it. Loves the fact that he can’t do a damn thing but take whatever is given. There are no decisions to be made, no tasks for him to accomplish, nothing to reject or debate. It is undoubtedly confinement but it feels like the most blissful freedom.

After much deliberate teasing, Kurosaki finally slides inside. _Oh_ , the sounds Uryuu makes! But he has long since lost the ability to care about anything other than the pleasure wreaking untold havoc within. Kurosaki’s thrusts are slow but hard from the start. His hands are all over Uryuu, tugging here or there at the ropes, trailing fingers between the gaps to emphasize what is already obvious. He is helpless, and overcome with lust because of it. The sounds of his desperate moans are almost constant, any stray words obscured by dampened fabric.

By the time Kurosaki picks up the pace, breathing has become a challenge. Between the noises he can’t keep from making, the gag in his mouth, and the binds around his neck, Uryuu has to struggle for each gasp. He wouldn’t change it, though, as it is adding to the experience in a delightfully new way. Maybe it isn’t the safest thing but it doesn’t matter anyway; he won’t last another minute with the way Kurosaki is slamming against him now.

Those wandering hands settle at Uryuu’s hips and grip tightly. If he could see Kurosaki’s face, he knows there would be intense determination painted all over it. As if the unique noises he starts to make just before climax weren’t indication enough.

These idle musings are derailed as Uryuu’s third hit for the night comes crashing through his system. Ecstasy so immense that it wipes everything blank, leaving not a single scrap of thought in his head. Every single muscle clenches as the aftershocks assail him. Kurosaki’s groans have jumped an octave and gone tremulous. The bite of nails at Uryuu’s hips as he abandons all composure inspires another shock of pleasure.

Kurosaki eases out and collapses to the bed, panting just as loudly as Uryuu. Staying right where he fell is probably his greatest wish at the moment, but Kurosaki musters the energy to rise once more after a moment and get Uryuu out of the tangle he put him in. The last scrap to be removed is the blindfold, and Kurosaki’s gorgeous visage is a welcome sight, to say the least. Uryuu tackles him to the mattress, kisses aimed for his mouth but mostly landing everywhere else. Laughing, Kurosaki helps him out with guiding hands.

“Can I take this to mean you enjoyed all that?” he asks Uryuu between one lazy smooch and the next. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Conversation is a fresh challenge in his current state, but he does his best to soothe Kurosaki’s endearing concern. He is paying extra attention to the faint pink marks lingering on Uryuu’s ridiculously pale skin.

“No—I mean yes, I enjoyed it but you didn’t hurt me.”

“Are you sure?” Kurosaki checks, dragging light fingertips along an arm. “I was told there might be some shallow bruising, but…”

“When have you known me to complain about your sex-bruises?”

A smile. “True. If I didn’t know better, I’d almost wonder if you liked being marked by me, Ishida.”

“Good thing you know better, then.”

Before he realizes what he is doing, Uryuu is nuzzling against Kurosaki’s chest and getting cozy for a nap. He feels mentally and physically sated to a brand new degree that immunizes him to the usual doubts and discomforts. Whether or not he _should_ cling to Kurosaki like an amorous octopus does not matter in the slightest. All Uryuu cares about is enjoying the moment before it fades. So much so that he doesn’t utter one noise of dissent when Kurosaki drapes an arm around and tenderly strokes up and down his back. In fact, he dares to release an approving hum.

“Shit, I must’ve done something right,” marvels Kurosaki in an awed tone, “You’ve never been… _cuddly_ like this before. Not that I’m complaining!”

“Don’t get used to it.” He doesn’t mean a single word, and judging by the soft laugh that tickles his hair, Kurosaki knows it. After a moment’s contemplation, Uryuu adds a hushed, “Thank you.”

This one he does mean, wholeheartedly. Kurosaki’s shifting hand stills at his lower back and his breathing changes. When Uryuu tilts his head back to look, Kurosaki is watching him with far too much emotion in his dark eyes. And Uryuu knows he has given himself away. This wasn’t just amazing sex for him, but something more like a revelation and a therapy session rolled into one. Like one of those trust-fall exercises, only about a thousand times more meaningful.

Suddenly, he realizes their relationship has been altered. Not just by this experience, but all those leading up to it. Uryuu can’t honestly say this is only about sex anymore, if he ever really could. He cares about Kurosaki in ways that make him deeply uncomfortable and deliriously happy at the same time. He actually _likes_ the artist. More. And he isn’t even afraid of it anymore. Uryuu thinks about the portrait hidden in the closet and the way Kurosaki looks at him sometimes like he is the sunflower and Uryuu is the sun itself, and he wonders if he has been looking at Kurosaki the wrong way all along.

Uryuu is so tired of fighting. Maybe he isn’t ready for what this connection truly means to him, but he is officially beyond pretending it doesn’t exist. So, when the endorphins fade and his strength begins to return, he still doesn’t budge from Kurosaki’s warm hold.

“I don’t have enough foundation for all these fucking _bruises_ , Ishida-kun! Are you sure I don’t need to go all mama-bear on someone’s ass?”

Holding back a snicker at Rose’s frustration, he shakes his head and tries not to focus on how strange it is to feel hair moving all around his neck his shoulders.

“I’m sure. They don’t hurt, and believe me when I say the process of getting them made any discomfort worth it.”

“This I have to hear!”

Blushing at the notion of sharing such sordid sexual details, Uryuu hopes it won’t show through the makeup Rose has been layering on his face for the past twenty minutes.

First was the wardrobe. Rose has more clothes than anyone he has ever met, all stylish and much nicer than a restaurant server ought to be able to afford. Next was the hair. Again, his impressive collection of high-end wigs and extensions is something of which Uryuu can only guess the value. Shoes were next but of course he refused to wear anything with more than a two-inch heel for fear of breaking his neck on a misstep. Now they are finishing the final touches on his makeup and Uryuu hasn’t been allowed to glance in a mirror even once.

Pausing to admire his handiwork so far, Rose squints at him and nibbles the end of an eyebrow pencil. He gives Uryuu a look that says, ‘Well?’ when his invasive question goes unanswered. Rose isn’t about to let the origin of his bruises remain a mystery.

“It was sex-related,” Uryuu quietly mumbles, hoping to leave it at that.

Eyes darting around to analyze the pattern, Rose guesses, “Shibari?”

“Is it that obvious? I have work day after tomorrow…”

“Oh, don’t worry, kitten,” he calms with a sly wink, “Only someone who has seen it often enough would recognize it. I happen to have had a few lovers who favored the practice. I can see why you’d like it. Was this with that Kurosaki fellow?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I need to see a photo of this _wunderkind_. I didn’t get a good look in the club and the suspense is killing me!”

“A-all right,” Uryuu uncertainly allows.

Fishing his phone from his jacket, tossed over the back of Rose’s couch with the rest of his clothes, he pulls up the only image he has of Kurosaki: the one sent as incentive the night he responded to the fake personals ad. Uryuu hands his cell over and watches the unflappable Rose’s mouth drop open on a religious exclamation.

“Ooooh, honey, I can see why you’re so smitten with him. Features like that _and_ great in bed? Better lock it down!”

“About that…”

Interest piqued, Rose drops the tools in his hands and perches on the edge of the vanity to face him. He commands, “Spill.”

Uryuu confesses everything. How he thought he just wanted a fuck-buddy but feelings have developed despite best efforts. There is so much more to Kurosaki than he’d initially assumed. It has gotten so bad that Uryuu thinks about him regularly, distractingly, helplessly. Finally, he relates last night’s epiphany and how he knows he wants a more serious relationship with Kurosaki. The artist may even be open to the idea. But none of that changes anything about his father’s opinions and their unshakable hold over him and his budding career.

“I think I’m falling for him…and it might be ruining my life.”

Rose listens in rapt attention, taking the predicament very seriously. He stares straight into Uryuu’s eyes and firmly asserts, “You’re an idiot.”

“What? Why?”

“I desperately wish someone would track me down to a dance club out of worry and then shag me up against a wall from unbridled desire. He learned _shibari_ for you; that is an insanely intricate art. Do you have any idea what a unicorn that boy is? Besides, it sounds like you’re crazy about each other! Isn’t that so much more important than a stupid job?”

“It’s not just about the job. I thought it was, but it isn’t. It’s about my sense of self-worth.” Crossing his arms, Rose’s impatient look urges him to elaborate. “My whole life, I have measured myself by my parents’ approval. Exceeding my father’s expectations has been the driving force behind my success since I was a child. Being the ‘good son’ is all I ever wanted before I met Kurosaki. Even though I know I shouldn’t hold my biased father’s views in esteem, it is engrained in my psyche. I can’t get past it!”

“That’s because you have been fighting a war on two fronts. Have you ever considered that the best way to move past it could be to admit your feelings—to yourself _and_ to Kurosaki-kun—so you can stand united to face your father?”

“But I—”

“It’s not too late to change, Ishida-kun. You are young and time heals. Let your father throw his tantrum, let him reject you if that is what he chooses to do, but know that you are _worthy_ with or without his approval.”

The message hits home and Uryuu is stunned into a pensive silence. Rose hastily adds a finishing touch to his makeup and pulls off the shawl draped over the mirror. Uryuu meets his own eyes in the reflection and gasps. He barely recognizes himself beyond the masterful illusion of femininity. Rose does wonderful work—an artist in his own right. Secretly, Uryuu thinks he resembles his mother more than he ever realized.

“This is…amazing, Rose-san. Absolutely incredible.”

“Thank you. I had a great model, though. Told you you’d make a beautiful woman.”

His resulting snort is decidedly unladylike, but he can’t exactly deny the observation. For the first time in his life, Uryuu accepts the fact that he is attractive. Not because Rose says so or because of the costume. He blames Kurosaki. For all those times he slipped in covert compliments and comments, it has inevitably sunk in. They have slowly eroded the mile-high brick wall that is his blind modesty.

Idly touching his cheek, Uryuu thinks that he is indeed handsome, in a way, and it’s all right to acknowledge that. He is intelligent and kind and capable all on his own without meeting every last mandate Ryuuken ever set. He is good enough just the way he is. If someone as remarkable as Kurosaki can care about him, what more can he ask for?

A hand on his shoulder brings him out of his reverie. He turns to meet Rose’s gaze as he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Better,” answers Uryuu, because he finally knows what he wants and what he has to do to get it. “I’ll be right back.”

“What? Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?”

He travels straight to Kurosaki’s doorstep, without even calling ahead first. Nerves start to creep in as he raises a fist to knock. Yet, what he rushed here to say is too important to let his fears get the best of him now. The door opens and Kurosaki stares in confusion for a beat. Two fast blinks.

Then, “ _Ishida_!?”

“I want you to start calling me ‘Uryuu’,” he replies because it seems important. “Can I call you ‘Ichigo’?”

Still struggling over his appearance, Kurosaki only manages a baffled, “What?”

Uryuu pushes past him to peer into the living room. “Are you alone?”

“Uh…yeah.”

The door shuts mostly thanks to gravity rather than Kurosaki. He trails after Uryuu like a lost lamb, twitching when this skirt-wearing version swivels to face him with a very serious countenance.

“I have feelings for you, Ichigo, and I need you to tell me right now if that is going to be an issue for you.”

His brain picks that moment to resume function. Adopting an equally sober disposition, Kurosaki unflinchingly responds, “I’ve had feelings for you from the beginning, Uryuu. I always knew your ‘purely physical’ stipulation was a doomed prospect. At least, from my perspective.”

A giddy warmth threatens to destroy his solemn composure, but Uryuu holds onto it for just a little while longer. He is a tiny bit annoyed. Mostly, he is simply relieved this isn’t one-sided and that it didn’t turn into a big episode as he worried it might. For his peace of mind, however, he needs to make it completely clear.

“I want to be in a committed relationship with you.”

“Me, too,” Kurosaki insists, stepping closer.

“I want to spend more time together. Talk about inane things. Go on dates. Cook dinner for each other. I want more pictures of you in my phone. I want to borrow your clothes and forget to return them. Sleep over more often than not. Show you my bland apartment. Introduce you to my mother. I want to talk about that portrait you painted of me. I want—”

Uryuu could happily keep listing examples at random but Kurosaki’s lips are in the way. He can feel the artist’s smile pressed solidly against his own, arms wrapping around to hold him tightly.

When he eventually withdraws, Kurosaki asks, “Now can we talk about why you’re in drag?”

“It’s my friend, Rose-san’s, doing. You met him at the club: blond hair, red dress.”

“…‘Him’?”

“It’s a long story. Care to accompany me back to his flat so I can pick up my clothes? He would love to see you again, I’m sure. Come on.”

Turning to head for the door, Uryuu is surprised to discover his wrist caught in a firm grip. Kurosaki is giving him a very familiar look.

“Wait. You’re not really planning to leave right away, are you? Dressed like that…Or did you forget I’m bi? You make for a seriously stunning woman, Uryuu.”

Unable to smother a smirk, he relents, “I suppose that’s fair. As long as you know you are not allowed to make a mess of this outfit.”

“In that case, we better hurry and take it off.”

They promptly relocate to his bedroom and collapse onto the mattress. Not seeming to want Uryuu’s help, he starts slipping silky clothes from his body, leaving gooseflesh in the wake of skimming fingertips. Kurosaki dusts light kisses across unveiled skin at random as he goes, masterfully stoking flames sparking into life just beneath the surface. A soft moan announces the successful removal of both blouse and skirt. His palm smoothes over the lacy outline of a fancy bra…and pauses there. Opening eyes he didn’t mean to close, Uryuu analyzes the artist’s abrupt change in mood. Kurosaki looks almost upset.

“What’s wrong?” he softly asks with a soothing stroke through short hair.

Brown eyes meet his and a plethora of inscrutable emotion flashes behind them. He takes a steadying breath and begins, “Remember when you asked why Orihime and I broke up?”

Although Uryuu thinks it is a very odd subject to dredge up under the circumstances, he replies, “Yes…?”

“If we’re going to do this for real, you should hear the reason why.” It’s an ominous declaration, to say the least. He nods somewhat hesitantly for Kurosaki to continue. “I don’t know if she ever mentioned it, but she’s a lingerie model.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have guessed she could be comfortable doing that sort of work,” Uryuu muses aloud.

“Well, she started out as a fashion model, then switched to swimsuits, and finally underwear. Anyway, that’s not the point. What I’m trying to say is it didn’t work out between us because she could tell how much her career choice bothered me.” He figures he can hazard a guess at where this is headed, especially when Kurosaki brushes a thumb over a satiny strap and frowns. “I couldn’t stand the thought of all those people who saw her in a way that only I should have—it’s a half-step away from porn!—but it never occurred to her to see it like that until I complained. ‘Hime loves her job but she still offered to quit for me. I broke up with her so she wouldn’t have to.”

The moral of the story eludes him. Uryuu gazes thoughtfully at him for a moment before trying, “I can promise you, I won’t become a lingerie model in this lifetime.”

Sighing, Kurosaki shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re going to make me explain this, aren’t you?”

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” Uryuu kindly allows, though he wasn’t the one to bring it up in the first place. “We can just—”

Kurosaki kisses him then. It doesn’t quite have the same spice as their usual. No, this one is flavored with unrestrained need and a hint of desperation. It tastes bittersweet, and Uryuu’s heart gives a sympathetic twinge even if he doesn’t fully understand. Suddenly breaking contact, Kurosaki steals a sharp breath and stares right into his eyes.

“Before you commit to anything, Uryuu, you should know that in a serious relationship I’m clingy and possessive and demanding. I’ll get jealous easily and be too stubborn to admit how much it irritates me to see other people looking at you. I can be mean and petty at times, too. Eventually, I’ll wind up hurting you and hating myself for it.” Huffing a painful, twisted little laugh, he wryly concludes, “Basically, I’m saying you’d be completely nuts to want to stay with me in the long run.”

Uryuu gapes as he considers that shockingly self-deprecating soliloquy. “Are you telling me to leave you?”

“No. But I am suggesting you probably should.”

He has no ready response to that. He wants to smack Kurosaki. To call him an idiot and emphasize how ridiculously late and pointless such a dire warning is at this juncture. Because Uryuu really doesn’t have a choice anymore. Particularly not when he’s showing such a pitiful expression, half-cringing like he fully expects to be dumped any second.

“Ichigo,” he solemnly begins. As if voicing a fact that should be obvious, Uryuu states, “I’m already in love with you.”

It washes over him in waves. Surprise, bewilderment, disbelief, fear. Reluctant elation. Gratitude. Kurosaki lets himself be enfolded in a comforting hold, a kiss placed upon the top of his bowed head.

Into the crook of Uryuu’s neck, he hoarsely admits, “Me, too.”

“I don’t care how possessive you are as long as you put up with how finicky I am.”

A short laugh warms his throat. Kurosaki raises his head to show him a teasing smile as he says, “Yeah, you are pretty finicky.”

“I get it from my father.” Pondering that for a moment, he haltingly asks, “Would you…stand by me when I tell him? I don’t think…I can do it alone.”

“Of course, Uryuu.” A sweet kiss emphasizes the selfless sentiment. “Anything you need. I’m always here for you.”

He holds Kurosaki tighter, realizing he always has been there for Uryuu since the day they met. It just took him a while to finally figure that out.

Locking gazes with his official boyfriend, he promises in return, “I’m here for you, too, Ichigo. Anything you need.”


End file.
